


Lights Out

by SymphonicFantasia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Fight Club - Freeform, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, SHEITH - Freeform, Sheith Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonicFantasia/pseuds/SymphonicFantasia
Summary: All his life, Keith had only ever known fighting.He fought during his school years and had been in his own street brawls from time to time. Underground fighting was meant to be his surefire way to earn cash quickly. But down below, the fighters are stronger and bigger. Keith found himself declared a loser in an ambulance more than being declared the winner in the ring.Why this one hot attendant is the one who takes care of him is beyond his understanding. Maybe fate had decided to throw him a bone.





	Lights Out

**Author's Note:**

> My Sheith BigBang piece is here! I had the wonderful and golden opportunity to work with Soap and Airimeri! I was so honored to learn that they wanted to draw for this story and I've honestly been sobbing over it since I first learned about it. Thank you so much for working on this with me! I'm so glad that you both liked the story and I hope to work with you two once more in the future! ♥
> 
> Check out their art for the story! Click for [Soap](https://twitter.com/SoapySheep/status/904916088319823872), and then click for [Airimeri](https://twitter.com/airimeri/status/905051062918275073), and then cry because they're amazing and so is their art! ♥

Pain from his knuckle shot up his arm as he broke it, but it felt so good to connect that hit to his opponent’s face.

Keith’s opponent fell with a hard thud and the crowd roared. Their cheering only boosted the feeling and he raised his arm in the air. The crowd roared louder, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Somewhere, he heard his name being called by the referee. Even with the use of a microphone, the referee’s voice was drowned out.

Keith didn’t want to hear their voice anyway. All he wanted to hear was the crowd and how they chanted his name. How they came alive and were wild because of his victory.

How they made him _feel_ alive.

He didn’t hear the cops coming to crash the party.

Left and right, the members of the crowd were grabbed and taken away. Keith was one of them and, although his blood was still on fire, he didn’t fight back. This was a song and dance he had been a part of since he was eighteen.

 _Don’t fight back. Keep quiet. You’ll be out by tomorrow._ And Keith still chanted this in his head as they dragged him outside and into a car.

One of them said something to him as they were pulling him into the station. Keith pretended not to hear them. It was always better to keep quiet during situations like this. They took off his cuffs and pushed him into the cell, the door slamming behind him. Keith straightened out his jacket and glared at the officers as they walked away. They looked pleased with themselves.

Keith turned around and jumped.

There were others in the cell with him, which was a first for a long time. When they last put Keith in a cell with someone, the guy got too close to his face. Keith snapped, threw a punch at him and knocked him out. The officers usually put him on his own so that he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

So, seeing not one but _two_ people in his cell was strange.

They stared at him, eyes wide and curious. Keith was used to being stared at in cells. He was a scrawny looking guy with a black eye. They were probably thinking about what Keith had done to get in here.

If any of the two were smart, they wouldn’t ask him. Keith’s blood was still thrumming with adrenaline and he wouldn’t hesitate to hit someone if they pushed his buttons.

Keith could feel the pain of his knuckle tingling up his arm. His adrenaline had died down and he was starting to feel the pain from that fight. His ribs, his arms, his legs, his _face_. Keith wished for a mirror to see how badly he looked. He knew he had a bloody nose at one point.

Raising his left hand, Keith ran it under his nose. Dry flakes of blood rested on his glove and he groaned. What he needed was medical care, not a cell.

But underground fighting was illegal, and so was betting on it. It was a wonder they hadn’t found a way to permanently bench Keith from fighting altogether. He wondered if they were preparing something like that.

A matter Keith would think about another time when he wasn’t in total pain and lack some sleep. Keith walked over to the only bed in the cell and laid across it. He folded his left arm behind his head in a poor attempt of having a pillow and closed his eyes. Keith was hoping to get some sleep until they let him out. He was hoping to distract himself from the pain he was in.

That wouldn’t be the plan because the other two in the cell started to talk again.

Their voices were hushed, but to Keith, they sounded like flies buzzing in his ears. He _hated_ that sound and Keith tried to block it out. None of the calming techniques he learned had help. And that bothered him even more.

“Look, it won’t be hard to get an experienced fighter and get them to go against Rolo.”

“Lance, that’s crazy. You can’t keep finding newbies to go against him _and_ expect them to win. Even if you do tell them his weakness. It never works and Rolo knows you’re telling them. He always finds a way to avoid it from being exploited.”

“I think they’re in cahoots with each other, that’s what I’m thinking.”

“Even if you could prove it, it’s not going to stop Rolo from beating them and winning.”

“Pidge, please. Just give me some time and I’ll find another experienced fighter to step in and go one on one with him.”

“Would you two _shut up_?” Keith turned onto his side, resting his weight on his elbow. The two stared at him, surprised that he could hear their conversation. They weren’t being _that_ quiet. “I’ve heard cats in heat make less noise than you two.”

The tallest of the two narrowed his gaze at him and stood up.

Keith, not one to back down from a challenge, did the same.

It was difficult to appear intimidating when someone was a few inches taller than him, but Keith knew better. Keith knew that his strength and speed made up for his height and that usually threw his opponents off.

“Just what does it matter to you what we’re talking about, you--”

“Lance, Lance, wait!”

The shorter one stood up and tugged at his arm. There was realization written on their face.

“I think that’s _Keith_. You know, the one everyone’s been talking about? The young fighter that’s been beating everyone and has a straight record of wins, no losses.”

Lance looked down at his friend and then back at Keith. In a matter of seconds, his expression changed dramatically and Keith snorted.

“Dude! Yeah, totally!” Keith had a feeling that he was just saving face at this point. “Everyone’s talking about you!”

“Your friend just said that,” Keith said, crossing his arms. His hand sent a surge of pain up his arm. He lowered his right arm to the side, placing his good hand on his hip. “What does it matter to you?”

“I think you just might be the answer to our prayers,” Lance answered. His grin was starting to grow.

“I don’t think our miracle answer should be found three feet away from a toilet that has a rat swimming in it.”

“Pidge, please.”

Pidge moved to Keith’s right side and lifted his hand. They swatted his working hand away and continued to exam his knuckle. “I didn’t think it was possible to hit someone so hard you _dislocate_ your knuckle.”

“… It’s not broken?” Keith asked, bewildered by this knowledge.

“Nope. And it’s not dislocated anymore, either.”

Before Keith could protest, Pidge had pushed it back into place. He made a yowling sound that he wasn’t proud of, but now the ache in his hand was dull. Keith flexed his hand, making sure that they hadn’t done anything else to it.

“Thanks…”

“You’re welcome,” Pidge replied.

“Anyway, dude, you think you might be interested in helping us?” Lance asked, resting his arm on Pidge’s shoulder. They didn’t look happy about it.

Now, Keith wasn’t about helping people. It wasn’t his nature to do so.

No one helped him when he was moving from foster home to foster home.

No one helped him when the bigger kids in the orphanage were telling him lies about his father.

No one helped his father and stopped him from leaving his five-year-old son on the front steps of an orphanage.

No one helped _Keith_.

When the memories came back, it always put Keith in another place. It was a place he went to too often and it bothered him every time. The only place Keith was free from them was within the ring. In there, he could avoid his past and his current problems. In there, Keith felt _safe_.

It was ironic.

Keith blinked a few times to bring himself out of his headspace.

Lance and Pidge stared at him, unaware that anything had happened to him. Keith ran his hand through his hair, mulling the thoughts around in his head. They bounced around the fog of Keith’s memories, piercing through it to shine some light on the situation.

Reaching a conclusion, Keith crossed his arms and stared at them. “I want 75% of your profits.”

“60%,” Lance retorted.

“70%. I won’t go any cheaper than that.”

Lance and Pidge glanced at each other. They seemed to have some sort of telepathic communication between themselves. Words flitted between them without needing to be said. Looking back to him, Lance nodded his head.

“Fine,” Lance said, but he didn’t sound happy. Keith couldn’t say that he sounded upset, though.

When they held out their hands for him to shake, they were in sync with each other. Keith had little experience with people. If they weren’t about to get knocked out by him, he couldn’t understand their actions. So, Keith found the in sync movements a bit creepy. If he shook their hands, he would be stuck in this deal with them.

But Keith needed the money.

Keith shook their hands, crossing his arms to do so.

“Nice doing business with you,” Keith said.

“Likewise,” Pidge responded, taking their hand back. “We’ll explain everything over brunch when we get out of here. There’s a lot of information we need to go over with you.”

“Let’s not worry about telling him until later.” Lance clapped his hands together. “So, mind if I take the bed, Keith?”

“Lay on it and you’ll have a broken wrist.”

“Noted.”

* * *

There was a lot of information that Pidge and Lance had to give to Keith.

Information about Rolo and where his weaknesses were. They even asked Keith to win two fights with opponents around the same size as him. They wanted to him to prove himself, which bothered him terrible, but he didn’t comment about it. Keith easily took them down, doing it within seconds. Every opponent had their own weakness, himself included. Keith made sure to finish his fights before it could be exposed. It was something that he was famous for.

Keith proved himself and he had to suffer Lance shouting in his ear after it was over. He had proven himself, though, and it was time for Keith to go into his first fight.

Warehouse fights differed from the fighting Keith was used to. Fights in the warehouse's arena held more violence, more blood being spilled, more outside objects being brought into the fights. This was an entirely different level that Keith wasn’t familiar with.

And he _loved_ it.

The energy Keith felt hummed through him and sparked every nerve in his body. The tips of his fingers tingled and he kept flexing his hands to rid himself of the feeling. There was a grin on his face that he had to hide from his companions for fear of them asking what was up. Keith didn’t know how to explain the good feeling he was feeling from being around the arena and seeing how different the fights were. Keith didn’t know how to explain how much he wanted to be in there already, laying down hits that would decide the victor of the match.

Keith wanted to be in the ring _right now_.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite stooges.”

Keith didn’t miss the mocking tone Lance spoke in when he repeated the words right back. He turned to see who approached them and he recognized him instantly from the portfolio: Rolo.

He was more handsome in person, Keith would admit that. It was a shame that he planned on ruining it by the end of his match. Beside him, Lance had started sprouting something, words an intelligible mess while Pidge tried to calm him down.

Rolo approached him. Keith stood up tall, crossing his arms. Appearing intimidating when someone was taller was difficult, but Keith made it work. He _had_ to make it worse. He didn’t want anyone to think that he was a pushover in the ring.

“You’re the newbie they hired, huh?” Rolo asked, leaning down so that they were eye to eye. Keith didn’t like that. “Did they tell you about all the money they owed me? And almost every fighter in this arena?”

“They did,” Keith said honestly. It was one of the first things he discussed with them over brunch.

“And you’re still willing to work for them?” Rolo questioned. “You got some guts, kid. These two are pretty unlucky when it comes to picking out fighters.” Rolo grinned and Keith decided that he didn’t like that look at all. His face would be the first thing Keith would hit. “They always manage to pick the runt of the litters.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at him. “You’ll eat those words when I’m through with you.”

Rolo chuckled. “We’ll see about that.” He raised his hand and ruffled Pidge’s hair as he walked by.

Pidge grumbled, fixing their hair up. “What an asshole. Keith, you gotta beat him. I’m sick of that smug face of his.”

“I’ll do it. I don’t like it, either,” Keith answered.

Lance raised his hand and squeezed at Keith’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you ready. Your fight’s gonna start soon.”

Preparing for a fight was always easy for Keith. While others cooed over him, pampering his muscles, Keith put himself in the right headspace that he needed to be. It involved enveloping himself in a black cube where no light or sound could get through. Here, Keith puzzled the pieces to his victory. Where he would strike, where Rolo would try and strike him, the best places in the ring to execute his moves.

He would win. Keith _needed_ to win this.

Keith strode with all the confidence in the world towards the fighting arena. Lance and Pidge flagged behind him, shouting that they were taking bets on the winners. It amazed him that they had some money leftover despite all their debt. That feeling was fleeting when Rolo entered the arena.

This was the part that Keith lived for. The adrenaline spike, the way his heart hammered against his ribs, having a fight of its own that it would lose. The crowd roared around them, cheering and chanting Rolo’s name. He was a crowd favorite, something Keith knew coming into the arena. But he couldn’t let them get to him. All other noise had to be blocked out if Keith wanted to achieve victory.

“Hey, listen,” Rolo started as he approached Keith, “I know that you didn’t know what you were getting into when they brought you along. So, no hard feelings when I win, right?”

“ _If_ you win,” Keith bit back, curling his hands into fists.

“Right.” Rolo had that look on his face again. That same look that Keith knew he hated and wanted to get rid of. “ _If_ I win.”

That was the last thing Keith remembered before he was knocked out cold.

There was a vague remembrance of falling to the ring’s floor. Keith’s vision blurred as Rolo sneered above him, interlacing his fingers and stretching his arms and hands before him. Keith never stood a chance against Rolo’s speed and strength. He always thought that he was fast, but Rolo was even faster.

Keith remembered him saying something, but the words just sounded like a louder ringing in his ears. And then, darkness pulled Keith within its depths.

 

 

 

_“Keith. Look at me.”_

_He was so tired, but he listened to his father. Keith rubbed at his eyes until the last trace of sleep left him. He wiggled his tiny toes on the cold concrete, but he didn’t register the bite of it. Instead, Keith smiled up at his father, holding a stuffed turtle to his chest._

_His father didn’t smile at him, but he cupped Keith’s face. His hands were rough in comparison to his son’s soft cheeks._

_“I want you to stay here. Okay? Don’t move until someone gets you. It’s important. Do you understand?”_

_At the age of five years old, a child doesn’t really understand much. The one thing children do understand is that their parent's word is law. If his father told him that he needed to stay put and that it was important, Keith would do it._

_He nodded his head, shaking his father’s hands with him._

_“That’s my boy.” His father leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Remember what I said. Stay put until someone comes for you.”_

_“Okay, papa.”_

_Keith didn’t question his father as he watched him walk away. The car was still running, blinding him momentarily with its lights. His father got in it and drove off._

_Keith’s naivety kept him in front of a building until dawn when someone found him._

The spell of the past broke when Keith opened his eyes.

A white light shined on him, blinding Keith until he peered elsewhere. It was a view he’s seen before: the inside of an ambulance. Keith could smell the medical products and it burned his nose. The vehicle bumped and turned corners, shaking him slightly. He could feel how badly he was injured. Keith could take a guess on what was wrong, but he wasn’t a doctor.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

A man hovered over him. It was cheesy to say that he took Keith’s breath away, but that’s what he did. A scar across his face, a white tuft of hair that hung low in his face, a smile that would have made his knees weak if Keith was standing.

“I’m Takashi Shirogane and I’ll be your EMT for the evening,” the man explained, shining a smaller light in his eyes. “Can you speak?”

Keith tried to speak. He tried to talk to him and tell him his name, but nothing came out. Keith couldn’t open his mouth at all.

“Don’t force it. I’m going to take care of you until we get to the hospital.”

Keith wanted to say something to him. He wanted to tell him that he thought he was beautiful. He wanted to try and ask for a phone number. It probably wasn’t a smart idea to ask someone for their number while strapped to a stretcher. But Keith was in shock, and when people went into shock, strange things tend to happen.

He didn’t have to dwell on this for long. Darkness grabbed Keith again, wrapped its arms around him and pulled him down until he was drowning in it.

But at least he got to see his face one last time.

* * *

“… im in the ring again, Lance…”

“He can… … he can!”

“… today? You still think… … crazy! Rolo could have really hurt him!”

“Pidge!”

Keith woke up at that moment.

The white lights of the hospital were dimmed, but they made Keith’s eyes burn. It was a struggle to sit up, but he managed. Pidge and Lance sat on one side, their complexions pale. Lance’s eyes were red, but Pidge’s eyes looked worse. It looked like they had been with him for a while now.

“How long have I been out…?” Keith asked, rubbing at his eye. His head hurt.

“Two days,” Pidge answered, their voice cracking.

It bothered Keith that he was knocked out for that long. This was his first loss. It was a strike to his ego, which was something he didn’t want to be injured in the first place.

“Alright. When’s the next fight?”

Lance reached over to Keith and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down for a moment. You don’t need to fight for a while so you should probably rest.”

Lance took his hand back after Keith glared at him.

“They won’t let you back in until you have a clean bill of health,” Pidge explained around a sniffle. “I’ll go and get the doctor.”

Pidge left them alone.

And things got uncomfortable.

Lance refused to look Keith in the eye, staring down at the tiled floor beneath his shoes.

Keith figured there were several things that were flitting through his mind. Guilt from the match and Keith being in the hospital. It wasn’t Lance’s fault, though. At least, this is what Keith told himself. They had given him all the information he needed on Rolo and Keith was confident.

His confidence was what did him in the end. This much he knew to be fact.

“Lance--”

“You don’t have to fight for us again if you don’t want to.”

Lance continued to keep his gaze on the floor. He had tried to look Keith in the eye once but directed his gaze back down.

“I didn’t expect Rolo to get any stronger than he was last time. I guess he may have lost a previous fight? That or Nyma had him training harder. But, yeah, you don’t have to help us out if you don’t want to.”

Lance raised his hand and let it drop on the spot beside Keith’s leg. His face twisted in a grimace, almost like it was a little bit hard to say what he wanted to say.

“Sorry.”

Something happened in Keith’s chest. Like someone opening a curtain that had been closed for too long. Red silk pulled across a window’s width and to let the light shine on places that were covered with dust for years. Keith couldn’t recall a time someone had apologized to him.

Not since…

Keith shook his head. Thoughts like that had a way of coming back to him at the worst of times. They crept up on him like a predator stalking its prey, waiting to pound and rip Keith into shreds. When he allowed them to attack him, he was always put into a catatonic state, freezing until Keith felt their teeth leave his twitching form.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and cleared it, coughing into his curled hand. “It’s… it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Even I made some miscalculations with the fight.” Keith ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down his own racing heart. “I still want to help.”

At Lance’s incredulous look, he snorted.

“You need the money and so do I. It works out for the both of us.”

“If you get hurt again--”

“I’m not going to get hurt again,” Keith assured. “Besides, if I _do_ ,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll just train harder until they can’t do anything to me. No big deal.”

Lance stared at him with the same look on his face. He looked frozen in place. Keith had to refrain from waving a hand in front of him.

Finally, Lance laughed, shaking his head. “Man, you don’t quit, do you?”

“Never have.”

The doctor came in at that moment, Pidge followed. Keith sat back and let the doctor say his piece.

This wasn’t the first time Keith had been on this end of the spectrum. He had heard it all before and it went in one ear then out the other.

Usually.

As Keith listened, he learned the severity of his health condition. While it was nothing to sneeze at, he shouldn’t be fighting anytime soon. If the doctor had his way, he wouldn’t have Keith fight at all.

His last words before he stepped out were to make sure that Keith rested and didn’t get into any more trouble.

That was just great.

Keith was released from the hospital two days later and was told he was on strict bed rest. He may have told the doctors that he would stay in bed, but that wouldn’t happen. During his bed rest, he thought of only one thing: getting back at Rolo.

To be precise, Keith thought about two things: Rolo and that EMT from a few days ago.

It was strange for Keith to be hung up over someone after meeting them only once. Maybe it was in the way he smiled and made Keith feel calm about the situation. If it was anyone else, they may have panicked and started blubbering all kinds of things. Keith’s only focus was on how he smiled and how his mouth moved with the words he was saying. It looked almost poetic and he liked that.

The thing about hospitals and ambulances was that it was rare for anyone to get the same person twice. Keith would most likely never see him again and he found that he was okay with it. Keith had other things to worry about.

Once the door was unlocked, Keith pushed the door open with his shoulder. Behind him, Lance and Pidge followed with a few things from the hospital. Most of it was stolen pudding, but hey, people needed to eat.

Keith’s “home” was nothing more than a studio apartment. It had the bare necessities such as a kitchen and a bathroom, but the rest of the apartment was nothing to brag about.

Keith didn’t have much and couldn’t remember a time when he did. His bed was a mattress in one corner of the room with a single blanket and pillow. A TV sat on a milk crate with a pair of rabbit ears antennae on top of it. There were also a couple of different sized weights and a punching bag, but other than those items, the apartment was bare.

Home sweet home for Keith.

“This place is a dump,” Lance stated without hesitating.

“ _Lance_ ,” was Pidge’s stern words as they elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Keith chuckled softly, though. Lance was right. His apartment wasn’t much to see and even the TV wasn’t the highlight of the place. It only got three channels, which were two different news station and PBS kids. Keith didn’t want to admit how many times he’s watched Arthur when he was bored.

“I don’t take any offense to it. It’s pretty bad,” Keith admitted.

“See? I knew he wouldn’t mind hearing the truth.” Lance placed his bag on the kitchen counter and wandered over to the punching bag. He pressed his hand against it, hardly moving it on its rack. “This your part of your training regimen?”

“More like a warm up for the ones I knock out,” Keith answered. He had his head in the fridge, putting away the puddings they had taken. These might end up being his next few meals for a while.

“And look how that helped you,” Pidge said, placing their hand on the fridge door. “Knocked out in five minutes.”

They didn’t shy away from Keith’s glare. Instead, they shrugged their shoulders.

“It’s the truth. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you’re okay, but if this is what your training is like, then it’s no wonder you lost.”

“Geez, Pidge. Tell him how you really feel,” Lance said, his sarcastic tone dripping from his words.

“Gladly.”

Keith rolled his eyes and slammed the fridge door shut.

He ran a hand down his face and refused to look at either of them. It was Keith’s confidence that ruined him. After all his wins, after all the times he’s stood in other ring’s while his opponent laid unconscious on the ground, it wasn’t enough. These fights were different and no amount of easy level preparation could help Keith with them. The realization of it all had him rubbing his neck and staring at the ceiling.

This wouldn’t do.

I’ll train harder,” Keith finally said. He still refused to look at Pidge or Lance. “By the next fight, the other guy will be the one going down.”

When Keith looked at them, Pidge had their eyebrow raised, but Lance grinned at him.

“It’ll happen.”

Pidge opened their mouth to say something, but Lance grabbed at their shoulder. They looked back at him and then at Keith. Pidge took a deep breath in and then released it.

“Alright. I should head out of here. My parents probably have a patrol out there looking for me by now.”

“I told you not to spend so many days away from home,” Lance said, crossing his arms.

Pidge shrugged and let the apartment, their own way of saying that the conversation was over. Keith wandered over to the bed and fell face down on it, burying his face in the crumbled blanket. It needed a cleaning and soon. The bed dipped and he heard Lance lay beside him.

“They sound like a good handler for you,” Keith mumbled, lifting his head up.

“Eh, we’ve been friends for a few years. You get used to their attitude.” Lance folded his arms behind his head. “They do have a point, though. You think you’ll be able to get stronger by then?”

Keith could hear the doubt, cleverly veiled behind careful words. He’s heard them before, back in the orphanage when the older kids would go ahead and tell him things. Of course, back then, as gullible as a child he was, Keith would fall for it. Not now, though.

Getting up, Keith walked over to his punching bag. “I can. I don’t care if I’m supposed to be on bed rest. I can do this.”

Lance hummed but he didn’t say anything to object what Keith had said. “Well, we know who you’ll be fighting next.”

“Tell me about him.”

* * *

One week later, that fight with Rax was the first of Keith’s victories.

The moment his large body fell to the ground, the crowd was silent. They stared at Keith in the ring, his fists raised for Rax if he decided to stand up again. The ten-second count passed and he was declared the winner. Around him, the crowd was a mix of cheering and disappointed wails. No one screamed louder than Pidge and Lance, who climbed into the arena to wrap their arms around Keith.

That was just the beginning.

Four more fights followed and each one placed him as the victor. Haxus was the hardest one to fight. He was bigger than Rolo and punched harder, but he wasn’t as quick. Keith used his speed to thwart Haxus back until he could knock him out. It took more of a struggle than he wanted. Keith was on the ground or pushed against the ropes, Haxus tossing him around like he was a doll.

Yet there Keith stood, waiting to see if Haxus would stand up. Waiting to see if he would have to fight for longer and thoroughly exhaust himself. In his head, he chanted for him to stay down. If he stood up, Keith wasn’t sure he could handle a few more rounds with him. There would be bruises Keith would find days later, large and disgustingly dark from the hard hits that Haxus had landed.

Ten seconds passed and all the fight left Keith. He lowered his shoulders and fists, letting the crowd’s excitement and joy wash over him.

Keith had quickly become a favorite among the new fighters. Those who hated him were only those who lost out on a couple hundred dollars that they spent. Money that they needed just as badly as Keith did, but why should he care? It was their own doing that they bet on fighters that weren’t worth his time (Haxus being the exception.)

Keith stepped out of the ring, jumping down to where Pidge and Lance waited for him. His knees buckled beneath his weight and Lance took hold of him, his grip tight around his bicep.

“How’d we do…?”

Pidge waved a wad of cash in his face, grinning from ear to ear. “Pretty good. Everyone was hoping for your luck to run out tonight. That or for Haxus to beat you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to fight again.”

Keith snorted and placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. His legs were still wobbly, but he could stand on his own. “Tough luck for those guys, then.”

Lance laughed and patted his back, ignoring the way Keith cringed and glared at him. “It’s good to see you have your confidence back. We were starting to get a bit worried after Rolo handed your ass to you.”

“On a silver platter,” Pidge reminded.

“On a silver platter,” Lance agreed.

Keith pushed Lance away and ruffled Pidge’s hair as he walked by.

It felt strange how, in the span of two months, Keith would grow to be so close to them. He was sure that his own apartment saw more of Lance and Pidge than their own families did. They either slept over or spent hours watching movies on a DVD player that Keith decided to splurge on. A voice in the back of his head told him that this was what it was like to have friends. And _that_ itself was a strange concept to him.

“I don’t suppose I can have a nice long break before my next fight,” Keith said, rubbing at his arm. “I’m pretty sure Haxus bruised a rib or two.”

“Yeah,” Pidge spoke. “No other fighter challenged you—nngh!”

Keith turned around, his hair whipping around his face. Pidge stood in a headlock, slapping their hands against a forearm. Lance glared at the intruder, trying to shrug the arm that was draped over his shoulder. Staring at the one keeping his friend’s captive, Keith narrowed his eyes at him.

Keith’s seen him around before, lurking around the arena and staring at him, _watching_ him and his fights. Keith didn’t know him by name, but he knew that he was the top dog of something. Wherever he walked, people parted for him like the Red Sea. They showed him respect, some even going as far as to bow to him. Their paths had never crossed before so Keith never needed to respect him.

Keith wouldn’t show respect to anyone he didn’t know.

While he had his friend’s trapped, the man stared at him, cold eyes that would have sent shivers up a lesser man’s spine. “Pidge! How’s my favorite pigeon doing?”

His sight never left Keith.

“Let go of me, Lotor.”

“Tsk, tsk. Is that any way to treat an old friend?” Lotor asked. He pulled Lance in closer, ignoring how he grimaced from the close contact. “And Blue? How have you been, as well? It’s been some time since I’ve seen you.”

“We’re doing fine,” Lance answered through gritted teeth. “Pidge’s family is starting to question where they’re getting their bruises from. Might be good to let them go.”

Lotor _finally_ looked at him then looked at Pidge, still squirming in his grasp. He raised his arms, dropping Pidge to the ground and allowing Lance to step away from him.

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want anyone in their family coming here and ruining all our fun.” He smiled at Keith, tilting his head to the side. “Do we now, _Keith_?”

Keith swallowed around a rapidly forming lump in his throat. He didn’t like the way Lotor said his name. It reminded him too much of the bullies in the orphanage. Right before they went ahead and ruined what little childhood innocence that he had. “I suppose not.”

Lotor chuckled and he stepped closer to him. Keith stood his ground, standing tall with his shoulders back. His body begged for a rest, tired of being tense from such a long day of fighting.

When Lotor stood before him, he was a whole head taller than Keith. Not the most unnerving thing. Keith had taken down boys in the orphanage that were twice his size. He’s taken people down that were _bigger_ than them both.

“I see that you’ve become a rapid favor among the other patrons here,” Lotor commented, his head once more tilted. “It’s a shame, though. Your talent is wasted by hanging around such…” He looked over his shoulder, finding Pidge and Lance glaring at him. Lotor smiled at them and looked back to Keith, “such riffraff. Your talent is much better suited for someone worthy of your caliber.”

Keith didn’t like where this conversation was heading. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, gooseflesh spreading across his arms. He was grateful he still wore his jacket. Keith didn’t want to give Lotor the satisfaction that he disturbed him.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll stick with those two. Maybe if _you_ were in that jail cell with me, things would be different. But you weren’t, so…” He raised his hand in a shooing motion.

An angry look flashed across Lotor’s face, gone before Keith could be smug about it. He chuckled, raising his hand, he trapped Keith’s chin between his hand and thumb. “It’s unfortunate you feel that way. I suppose we’ll need to be enemies for a while. Fortunate for me, I enjoy taking the trash out.” He moved his thumb, stroking Keith’s bottom lip. “Unfortunate for you and that pretty face of yours, though.

“You’ll be in a lot of pain when I’m through with you.”

Keith froze. He legit froze like he was kept in a freezer for hours. He didn’t know if his face remained passive or not.

Lotor searched his face and, when he was satisfied with what he found, smiled. “I hope to see you in the ring. And I _will_ see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

“I bet you can’t.”

He stepped around Keith, who could feel Lotor’s eyes boring into his back even as he walked away.

Moments passed before Keith felt like he could breathe again. His shoulders slumped and he braced his hands on his knees.

Lotor was something else, that much he could tell. Keith had never seen him fight before and he was starting to regret that he hadn’t. Lotor had witnessed plenty of Keith’s fight, knew what he did to achieve victory, knew what parts of his body he protected from being exposed.

Most importantly, he knew how long he could last in a fight.

Lotor having that information may have locked in his victory and Keith’s loss.

Pidge and Lance approached him and he looked up at them. “No bullshitting now… You need to tell me everything about Lotor and how he fights.”

 

 

Keith laid sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and its many cracks. His body still was still hurting. He couldn’t breathe much without a sharp pain erupting through his chest like hot lava. Hours of popping pain killers and putting frozen peas on his ribs didn’t do anything for him.

Keith didn’t want to say anything to the others. They were already worried about him with his upcoming fight again Lotor.

Only twelve hours and fifty-four minutes to go before Keith was expected to take on Lotor in the ring.

From his (newly purchased) couch, Pidge sat perched on the back of it like a monkey, staring at him with squinted eyes. Gauging his reaction for pain, Keith figured. If he showed too much of it, they might try to keep him from fighting and that was something he couldn’t do. If Lotor knew what kind of fighting style Keith had, he might even know where he lived.

Pidge told him that he was being ridiculous with that thought. Lance agreed with Keith and neither of them could shake that feeling off their backs.

“How do you feel?” Pidge finally asked, shifting in their seat.

“Never better. My ribs are breaking more with each second.”

“That’s not funny.”

Keith smiled. “I’m not apologizing.”

Pidge snorted and crossed their arms. “Anyway, do you want to keep hearing about Lotor? Or do you think your dry humor and boyish charms will be enough to woo him into submission.”

“I think my odds are good, don’t you? Start talking, though. I’m listening.”

“Lotor is as dirty as they come. Others may have issues with fighting opponents that aren’t as strong as them, but he doesn’t. He’s got, like, a penchant for doing it. If Lotor sees someone being cocky and foolish, AKA you, then he believes it’s up to him to take them down a peg.”

“Do you really think I was cocky and foolish?” Keith asked, turning his head to them.

“Foolish, no. Cocky? Definitely,” Pidge answered. “Your cocky attitude helps you out of some tight spots, though.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

 “You’re welcome, but pay attention. Every other fighter you’ve gone against has had some type of morals, but Lotor _doesn’t_. You won’t find anyone else hiding brass knuckles beneath bandages, but he doesn’t have a problem doing so. Heck, I’ve seen him step _out_ of the ring just to grab a chair and hit one of his opponents with it. Like, he does things fake wrestler style, but it’s _not_ fake.”

Keith groaned, closed his eyes and turned on his side to face Pidge better. “Charming… Why hasn’t anyone kicked him out of the warehouse if he fights so dirty?”

“He _owns_ the warehouse we all fight at. You can’t really kick out the person who gives us a place to fight and bet,” Pidge explained.

That made sense. Lotor was clearly the top dog in more ways than one. Keith’s chances of winning were dwindling into single digits now and he didn’t like it. According to Pidge, however, he didn’t have much of a chance in the first place.

Taking a deep breath sent a sharp jolt of pain across his chest. Keith curled in on himself and groaned. He could hear Pidge’s sneakers hitting the hardwood floors and squeaking when they approached him. Their hand touched his shoulder and he couldn’t shrug it off like he wanted to. Too much sharp movements and he knew he would be in more pain.

“You really shouldn’t fight, Keith,” Pidge said, running a soothing hand down his arm. “Lotor’s going to beat you worse than Rolo did. What Rolo did to you will look like something elementary school kids did to you back in the day.”

Keith refrained from laughing or telling Pidge the truth.

He had kids beat him up at all his schools and then some. Keith’s entire life had been nothing _but_ fighting. It was all he knew and, truthfully, Keith didn’t know how it would be if he _hadn’t_ started to fight back. His life would be a lot different if he had _someone_ in his life telling him otherwise.

The door slammed opened and they both jumped, a movement that had Keith curling up in pain once more. Lance walked towards them, dropping a bag from a local dollar store on the bed.

“How’s our patient doing?” Lance asked, sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed.

“Stubborn,” Pidge answered. “He’s persistent on fighting Lotor like the fool that he is.”

Keith moved until he could lay on his back again. “Tell it to someone who cares, Pidge.”

“I care,” Lance answered.

“Someone important.”

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens.” Keith reached back for the bag and dug around until he pulled out a bottle of water. “How much time do I have until the fight?”

Pidge looked at their watch. “Eleven hours and two minutes.”

Keith took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay… I’m gonna rest until then. Maybe something magical will happen while I sleep.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

* * *

The way Lotor stood in the ring screamed elegance and comfortability. It bothered Keith to see him standing like that. He was so confident that he was going to win, and he probably would. Bruised ribs did not recover overnight. They had all done extensive research, hoping for some miracle cure that would have Keith better in less than a day. There was no such luck in miracles and wishes, a folly meant only for children.

Keith shrugged his jacket off, ignoring Pidge and Lance.

They were trying to talk him out of it. They’ve been trying since Keith woke up from his nap. They tried while they waited for a cab, during the cab ride, and even the short walk into the warehouse. And they continued to try, pleading with Keith to not fight and assuring him that things would be okay if he didn’t go through with it.

But Keith wouldn’t back down from a fight. He never had and he never would.

Pidge grumbled when he tossed his jacket to them. “You’re being foolish! Lotor’s going to do some severe damage to you.”

“ _Severe damage_ ,” Lance repeated like a parrot. “There’s no shame in backing out of this fight, Keith!”

Lotor chuckled as he walked over to their side. “They’re right, you know. There’s no shame in backing out. Although…”

Lotor motioned to the crowd that had gathered around for the fight. There were more people than usual and it was clear that they were fans of Lotor. It was more than Keith had ever seen show up to his own fights. That troubled Keith to see the stark difference between their two crowds.

“I think your fans might be disappointed. You are a new favorite, aren’t you?”

Keith knew what bait was and Lotor was dangling it like a toy mouse in front of a cat. And he would play with it. They both knew that Keith would take the bait and chew on it, regardless of if he would win or not.

He climbed into the ring, kicking Lance’s hand off his ankle when he tried to pull him back.

Lotor smiled at Keith, backing up to his own spot. There was an energy running through him that Keith couldn’t explain. No word could describe it and Keith tried to pin one to it. It wasn’t excitement or anxiety or anything like that. It was not good or bad but it hummed through him and he wanted to move.

He wanted to _fight_.

The bell rung and Lotor lunged.

Lotor was _fast_. Faster than any of the other fighters Keith had fought before. Hell, he was faster than Keith _himself_.

A fist aimed for his face and Keith avoided it. Lotor’s leg kicked Keith’s leg right out from under him and his body slammed against the ring’s floor. His ribs screamed at him, desperate to get him to stop moving. Keith rolled back until he stood on his feet, sucking in a painful breath of air. Lotor was upon him once more, connecting a punch to the left side of his face, another to his stomach.

A flurry of punches and kicks that had Keith’s mind reeling. Keith knew that every hit he landed on Lotor’s body must have felt like a summer breeze. He felt his punches just bounce off him or graze his jaw. This was a fight Keith had never been in before. He’s been in unfair fights, had pulled through even when he was injured before. But those were kid fights, fights where someone was there to interfere and separate them.

No one would be interfering with this fight.

Keith needed to fight through the pain and the whirlwind of movement that was Lotor. Even if his body was winding down, even if his ribs felt like each one was on the verge of snapping in two. Keith still had to fight.

He caught Lotor by his arm and flipped him over. The sound Lotor made when he hit the ring was satisfying to Keith’s ears. The crowd was silent, gaping at what had happened. Lotor’s expression went from shock to flat out fury and _that_ was even more satisfying. Keith stepped back as Lotor stood up, lunging for him again. Lotor swung and Keith raised his arms up to block the hit, protecting his face as best as he could.

This blind fury that consumed Lotor could benefit Keith. If he managed to keep ignoring the pain in his sides, dodge Lotor’s attacks, and land some of his own, Keith might have a chance at winning. It was slim, but he had no other choice but to hope and try.

Lotor grabbed Keith’s arms and pinned them to his chest. He leaned in closer to him and Keith mentally hit himself for thinking about how clean his mouth smelled.

“This is a pathetic attempt. You know that, right?” Lotor hissed between clenched teeth.

Somewhere at the back of Keith’s mind, he knew he probably shouldn’t say what he was thinking. Pidge told him that he had a cocky attitude and they both knew it would get him in trouble if he said the wrong thing. Keith’s self-control checked out, though. It checked out right around the time he decided to come here and fight Lotor despite how much pain he was in.

“I think you fighting dirty is more pathetic. Don’t you agree?”

Keith should have seen it coming. They were so close together and Keith had released the lion that was Lotor’s anger out from its cage.

Lotor growled, pulled his head back and smashed his forehead against Keith’s nose.

Blood burst from his nostrils as he staggered back and fell. The count started but he couldn’t hear it.

His head was swimming and he struggled to get up before the count was over. Lotor pressed a booted foot to his chest and pushed him back down. With no energy to fight back, Keith stared up at his sneering face, seeing double.

Seeing double of the foot that came up and kicked Keith’s face, knocking him out.

 

 

 

_“He’s coming back!”_

_A larger kid pushed Keith, knocking him to the ground._

_Keith stared up at the bully, tears brimming his eyes. He wasn’t alone. Three other kids were with him, sneering down at Keith as if he were a bug. From what they had started to say, about him and his father, he was starting to feel like one._

_"How much of a baby are you?” He reached forward and grabbed Keith by his collar, pulling him until they were face to face. “Your dad dropped you off here because he didn’t want to deal with you anymore. He probably saw how much of a crybaby you were and decided to get rid of you. Just like_ everyone _else who’s been left behind here.”_

_Keith reached up and dug his blunt nails into his skin, hoping to be released. At his side, clenched in the crook of his arm, was the stuffed turtle that had been with him for the past four months Keith’s been at the orphanage. It never left his side, a small comfort on the nights he cried himself to sleep, wishing for his father to come back. The teasing had started after the older boys had heard Keith crying._

_They teased him that night and continued the next day._

_And the next, and the next, and the next, a constant stream of words meant to hurt Keith until he burst into tears. Which only caused the teasing to increase in ferocity._

_“Hey, what do you have there?”_

_The words lodged in Keith’s throat as his turtle was ripped from his grip. He reached out for it, pleading for them to give it back and leave him alone. They laughed at him, pushing him down and goading him some more. Keith tried not to say anything as they messed with him, his eyes trained on his only friend._

_It hadn’t been kept in the greatest condition, and it was close to falling apart. The tear on the turtle’s flipper ripped more and Keith_ snapped _._

 _Anger Keith had never felt before erupted from his chest and spread throughout his body, encouraging him,_ provoking _him to return the favor on what they’ve been doing to him. With interest._

_Keith lunged forward, tackling the boy to the ground. His small fists flew, hitting and pummeling his face until he dropped what was rightfully his. The others came to back him up, pulling Keith off and wailing on him with their own hits. Their fists were bigger, their punches hurt more, but Keith didn’t care._

_He fought back with all his fury until workers pried them apart and sent them to be taken cared off. And Keith made sure to bring his stuffed turtle with him, too._

Keith nearly gagged when he woke up. He sat up, choking on an unknown object. Reliving the past was not easy for anyone and it was _not_ easy for Keith. The one thing he hated remembering was how his life was before he got out of foster care and the orphanage. How _pathetic_ Keith saw himself for waiting for a man who left him behind.

Waiting for a man that would never come.

“I came in just in time. Good to see that you’re awake.”

Keith’s heart monitor went into overdrive, the machine beeping and reacting to his rapidly beating heart.

The EMT from all those nights ago stood at the end of his bed, his hand on the railing at Keith’s feet. Fate was evil, putting all these pieces together while Keith could do no more than stare from a hospital bed. He wasn’t as suave while sitting in bed as he could be on his own two feet.

“I’m going to need you to calm down there, buddy,” the EMT said, walking over to his machine. “I’m not here to hurt you or anything like that. This isn’t a scene from some terrible porn movie.”

He pressed a few buttons until the alert went off, monitoring it.

Keith took the time to calm his breathing and his heart. He shut his eyes and took deep breaths, letting the rise and fall of his chest soothe him. From his right, Keith could hear the machine slow down with his heart. He opened his eyes slowly and looked over at the EMT, finding him still studying the monitor.

“There we go. You’re good as new.”

The EMT shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets and walked back to the foot of Keith’s bed. Keith never took his eyes off him.

“How are you feeling? You’ve been out for a couple of days now, so I heard.”

A couple of days? Again?

That knowledge had Keith groaning, pressing his head against the pillow. Parts of his body still hurt and he hadn’t had a chance to see what bandages or work they had done to him. Where were Lance and Pidge? Usually, they were with him by now. They hadn’t left his bed the last time Keith was here.

Keith thought back to Lotor and wondered if he did anything to them. It was a scary thought and he clenched his fists in the sheets. If anything happened to them—

“Mr. Kogane? Is everything alright?”

Keith opened his eyes and looked down at the EMT. His worried expression hit Keith right in the chest.

Shifting on the bed, he raised himself up a fraction.

“Yeah… Just wondering if my friends came by or not today. Um…” He drummed his fingers on the bed. He felt foolish to ask this. “I’m sorry… I don’t remember your name…”

Keith knew for a fact that his heart skipped a beat when he saw that smile once more.

“Everyone calls me Shiro. I’ve taken care of you twice already. You didn’t wake up in the ride here last time, though.”

 “How embarrassing,” Keith joked, rolling his eyes. “Thank you, though.”

“No need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”

Keith tilted his head to the side, narrowing his gaze. “Then why are you here? Isn’t your job usually just to make sure no one dies on their way to the hospital?”

Shiro knocked his knuckles against the railing. “True. My job is over, but you’re a… special case.”

That wasn’t the first time Keith’s heard that before.

From various adult figures in his life who took the time out of their busy schedules to “help” Keith with his life growing up. People who thought they could break Keith out of the cocoon he had placed himself in. A whole lot of good they did. If anything, their interference only angered him more which resulted in him getting into more fights.

Still, he could humor Shiro.

Leaning back into the soft pillow, Keith crossed his arms. “How am I ‘special’?”

Shiro drummed his fingers along the railing. He kept looking everywhere but at Keith, his mouth pursed as he put together the words he wanted to say. Slowly, Keith was losing his patience. As attractive as this fellow was, Keith wasn’t going to waste any more time humoring Shiro if he wouldn’t just come out and tell him what it was.

Keith started to count to ten in his head, putting alligator at the end of each count.

_Three alligator. Four alligator. Five alligator. Six alligator. Seven alli—_

“How long have you been fighting for?”

Keith’s blood ran cold.

Keith squeezed his jaw shut, keeping it from hanging open like the dumbfounded fool that he had become. Underground fighting was illegal. Right now, Shiro wasn’t an EMT; he was someone visiting a patient. If he wanted to, Shiro could go and report the incident, find out where it happened and have it shut down.

Then Lotor would be on him like a piano, thinking that he was the one who ratted the joint out because of his lost.

This couldn’t be allowed to happen.

“I’m not sure what you mean…” Keith answered.

He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing his arms tighter to his chest. It was a defense mechanism, something that Keith couldn’t break as much as he couldn’t throw out that _stupid_ stuffed turtle that’s packed away in his duffle bag. That bag was tossed in the furthest corner of his closet back at his apartment.

Shiro raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m not here to do anything foul. Your injuries are obvious about what you’ve been up to. All the context clues are there. _That_ and your friend who rides with you told my partner when we were driving here a few days ago.” He smiled. “I think he’s got a little crush on him. You can see it in the way he smiles at him.”

Of course. It _had_ to be Lance. The only way Pidge would be caught in an ambulance was if they were the one injured. Or dead. Keith remembered the conversation he had with them quite clearly. He never learned the reason for it, though.

“Why did you want to know?” Keith asked.

 Keith had finally lowered his arms, his guard coming down slightly with them. Not enough, though. Shiro could still do whatever he wanted with the information Keith was providing.

Words meant nothing.

Actions meant _everything_.

Shiro drummed his fingers against the railing again.

“I want you to be careful.”

At Keith’s quizzical stare, Shiro sighed.

“People have died from those fights before. They were from injuries the hospital couldn’t treat in time. I’ve had people die in my cab from it and it was never a nice sight.” Shiro’s shoulders rose when he took a deep breath in. “And, judging by the injuries _you_ had when I got to you, the one who gave them to you is responsible for quite a few of his own.”

_What?_

“So, be careful, okay?” Shiro smiled and banged his knuckles against the railing a final time. “I hope you feel better.”

Keith licked his lips, watching as Shiro walked to the door. “Wait,” he called out, his voice humiliatingly cracking. Shiro turned to him and Keith took in a deep breath. “I’m blaming the morphine for this… but do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Keith expected Shiro to go bright red. He expected him to be as flustered like how Keith first was when he saw him. Instead, Shiro smiled and Keith was the one who was flustered. Again.

“Get a couple more wins under your belt and we’ll see. Have a good rest, Keith.”

Keith sunk further into his bed, waving a hand just before Shiro stepped out. He ran a hand down his heated face, his heart hammering away in his chest once more. This was a good day. Keith may have been out cold for a while, but at least he got to see Shiro again. At least he had a chance to speak to him.

“Dude! What’s going on with your heart monitor? The nurses are freaking out and on their way to you!”

Keith pulled his hand away and stared at Lance. Two nurses pushed him aside as they hurried in, questioning Keith about his well-being. Keith answered them, telling him that all was fine and it was a false alarm.

The whole time Keith stared at Lance, wondering what his new “friend” had gotten him into.

* * *

Lotor had done a number to Keith. Days after the fight, days after being released from the hospital, and Keith was still feeling it.

For once, Keith listened to the professionals and took time away from fighting in the arena. He didn’t have much of a choice. If Keith didn’t, there was a chance of doing more severe damage to his body. It was the kind of damage that Keith wouldn’t be able to come back from.

And since fighting was his life and the best way for him to make money, Keith had no choice but to listen and take a break.

Day by day his body started to heal again. Bruises were fading away, bandages were taken off, hospital visits were passed with flying colors. There was still a need to stay out of the ring for extra insurance.

Keith didn’t object. He felt a bit relieved knowing that he didn’t have to fight again. After his defeat by Lotor, he didn’t want to imagine what he would return to.

The bar was a good place to forget about things like that. Keith could sit on a stool and order drink after drink to forget about fighting and people like Lotor.

Pidge smacked his back and climbed onto the seat beside him. Keith was sure that they shouldn’t be here. He may not know their age, but he had a sneaky suspicion it was below twenty-one. Then again, the security guard didn’t ID Keith so it made sense that they wouldn’t ID Pidge, either.

If Keith was standing guard, he would have kicked them out the moment he saw them.

“What do you want, Pidge?” Keith asked around the rim of his beer bottle.

“I came to check up on you. Lance is going through an ID check right now,” Pidge responded. They grinned up at Keith. “I slipped right past the guy and he got caught. It was hilarious. One of my best works.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Better keep quiet about it, then. You don’t want to be thrown out on your ass when they find out about your age. I won’t be leaving the bar because of it.”

They snorted. “Please, they won’t kick me out. This place is so seedy that they won’t care if I’m here or not. So long as I don’t drink, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Lance arrived just then, looking grumpy and sour. He sat on Keith’s other side and crossed his arms on top of the bar top. “Ridiculous. I can’t believe it.” Pidge laughed and it only worsened his mood. “Shut up!”

Keith winced at the volume of his voice. “Keep it down. I’m trying to relax here, not get any more stressed than I already am.”

“There’s nothing to be stressed about. That’s what we’re here for.” Lance reached behind Keith and tapped Pidge on their shoulder. “Go ahead and tell them.”

Pidge adjusted their glasses. “So, while you’ve been on bedrest, Lance and I have been taking turns staying at the fight club for some research.” That explained why Keith hadn’t seen them both at the same time. “Despite the _ridiculous_ defeat that Lotor handed to you on a golden, silver trimmed platter, you’re still the favorite rookie to ever enter the ring.”

 “Give it to me in a way that I’ll understand,” Keith commented.

“It means,” Lance started, invading Keith’s personal space, “that when you return to the ring, people will still bet on you! You won’t have to build up your reputation. You’ll be right where you were and the money will be rolling in for us.”

Fighting…

Keith had been thinking about it for a while now.

About returning, about fighting anyone who stood in the ring with him, about what Shiro said. It bothered Keith to know that others had died in that ring. The amount of blood that had been spilled, a number of times the ambulance had to be called or a coroner. Keith had a lot of questions to ask, too, but he had doubts that Pidge or Lance would be able to answer him.

If they had the answers, there were more doubts that they would willingly give them to him.

Lance knocked against Keith’s head. “Hello. Is anybody home up there, or did Keith get abducted by aliens and was replaced? If so, how’s space? Can you take me, too?”

Keith pushed Lance off his stool and crossed his arms. “They wouldn’t take anyone without a brain. Pidge would be taken before they even decide to take you.”

Lance scrambled back onto his seat and punched at Keith’s arm. They went back and forth, hitting at each other until the bartender told them to stop.

Keith snatched his beer off the counter and chugged the rest down in three gulps. He slammed it onto the counter and pushed it to the other side to be taken away.

Now was a better time as any to ask them. Whether they had answers or not, whatever information they could provide would be helpful. If they wanted Keith to fight for them, they had to give him something.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Keith looked back and forth between them. They looked at him with such concerning stares. Since meeting them, Keith had always been unsure of how to react to that bubbling feeling in his stomach when they were near.

They were friends, that much was clear, but he didn’t know what to _do_ with friends when situations like this came forth. Was Keith meant to be silent about it or demand the truth be told to him right away?

The confusion of it all was starting to give him a headache and it _wasn’t_ because of the alcohol he had been consuming for the past few hours.

Keith buried his face in his hands and sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked. “You’re pretty pale as it is, but you look worse now. Is your medicine not working out for you?”

It was moments like this that had Keith disbelieving what Shiro had told him. Or at least, he didn’t believe that either of them knew anything about deaths or Lotor being behind any of them.

Keith ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s been fine. I’m fine.”

A silence spread out through the bar. The sounds of chatter and cups and bottles clinking together slowed to a stop. Even the jukebox went dead silent, the next song refusing to play for an eerie reason.

It sent a chill up Keith’s spine and he looked to his two companions. Even they didn’t like the aura that filled the bar.

“It’s good to see that you’re out of bed and the hospital. I was starting to think that you had given up fighting altogether.”

Why did he have to come here of all places? Keith liked this bar. He liked coming here to unwind and de-stress after rough days. Knowing that _he_ frequented the place, or knew where Keith liked to hang out, was unsettling.

Right now, he could use a bit more of that liquid courage that he had been consuming. It might give Keith that little boost he needed to punch his lights out.

… That was a bad idea now that he thought about it some more. He was meant to stay away from fighting for a little while longer.

Still, it didn’t stop Keith from stepping down from his stool and turning to face Lotor.

Even outside of the ring, Lotor looked superior. He stood tall, his hands behind his back. Behind him were two grunts Keith had seen before in the warehouse. This was the first time he was seeing them with anyone else but each other, but it made sense that they worked for Lotor. For all Keith knew, they had been spying on him the whole time, relaying all the information to their boss like the lapdogs they were.

“What are you doing here, Lotor?” Keith questioned, standing tall with his shoulders back. He might not be able to fight yet, but he could at least look as intimidating as he could. Lotor stood an entire head taller than him. He wouldn’t back down.

Lotor chuckled and pressed a finger against Keith’s forehead, pushing him backward. That angered him. “Calm down, little red. I’m not here to beat you up. _Again_.” Behind him, his grunts chuckled and sneered. It’s been some time since the fight, but it wouldn’t be forgotten so easily. “I just wanted to know when you would be stepping into the ring again. Others are talking about you, you know.”

Keith clenched his fists, his anger rising with every passing second. Behind him, Pidge and Lance stepped closer. A small hand touched the inside of his elbow, hoping to pull him back.

Keith knew he should. Only terrible things would happen if he went ahead and pressed Lotor. There were buttons he knew he could touch if he wanted to. Keith clenched his fists as more anger pooled in the center of his forehead. He was ready to blow his top any second now.

Then Keith thought of Shiro.

Thinking of him brought Keith’s anger down within seconds.

Keith took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He relaxed his fists, flexing them to release the stiffness he felt.

“I’ll be back in the ring, Lotor. Maybe not for a while, but I will be.” Keith motioned to Pidge and Lance behind him. “They’re making sure that I’ll be able to fight another fight.”

Lotor scowled, unsatisfied with his answer. “You seem pretty confident for someone who had their lights knocked out.” Lotor stepped closer and Keith stood taller, his shoulders back once more. “If we meet again, you won’t be returning to the ring when I’m through with you. Think about what you do next very carefully, _Keith_.”

“I’ll be stronger the next time we meet. Smarter, too.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lotor snapped his fingers and motioned for his cronies to follow him. “Enjoy your evening.”

Five minutes passed after Lotor had left the bar for things to return to normal. The crowd started talking again, beer bottles and cups starting knocking together, the jukebox returned to life and played a country song Keith hadn’t heard in years.

Keith returned to his seat and another beer bottle appeared before him. “On the house,” the bartender told him before walking to tend to another customer. Keith ran his thumb over the bottle’s label, keeping his gaze focused on it while Pidge and Lance sat beside him once more.

They didn’t say anything to him. They sat in silence, their eyes trying to bore holes into his sides.

Keith wondered what they were thinking about.

Were they thinking about coming clean about what they knew? About Lotor and what he was capable of? Or would they go the coward's route and tell Keith who wanted next to fight him?  A number of times they went with the latter told Keith that they would always pick that route.

Better to be safe than sorry, but Keith didn’t want to play it safe. If he wanted “safety”, he would have tucked his tail between his legs and let the bullies have their way with him all those years ago.

Just thinking of what his life could have been like if he hadn’t fought back left a bitter taste in Keith’s mouth. Clenching the bottle in his fist, he tossed back the drink, coating his tongue until memories slipped down his throat as easily as his beverage. It was empty in a few easy gulps and Keith slammed the bottle back down on the bar top. The memories this chunk of wood would tell him if it could.

“Feeling better?” Lance asked, leaning in closer to him.

Keith glared at Lance, turning his head slightly to face him. It wasn’t Lance’s fault that his past decided to regurgitate on his lap at an inopportune time. However, it _was_ his fault for not telling Keith more about Lotor. He deserved to know about him. Keith was fighting for _Lance_ so he _should_ be told about what was going on.

“I want to know more about Lotor.”

Lance paled, a look that would have been comical if it weren’t for the serious situation before him. He looked at Keith to Pidge and swallowed hard. Lance motioned for the bartender, ordered the hardest drink, and drummed his fingers while he waited. Keith was willing to give him time to answer. It must not be easy to talk about.

When Keith looked to Pidge, they were staring at their lap. Their phone was in their hand and they were playing a game that Keith couldn’t name for the life of him. Everyone had their own way of gathering courage. He wasn’t about to knock it.

The bartender placed Lance’s drink in front of him, appearing again with another beer for Keith. Keith didn’t drink it.

Keith crossed his arms and watched as Lance consumed his drink faster than he ever did with his beer bottles. However, he didn’t slam his drink down. Lance placed it gingerly on the table and wiped at the condensation on the glass.

“Can we talk somewhere else, though? Maybe at your place? Or mine?” Lance asked, staring at the ice cubes in his glass.

“It doesn’t matter where we go to talk, Lance,” Pidge spoke up, eyes never leaving their phone. “Lotor knows where we all live. It’s not safe anywhere.”

Now Keith _really_ needed to get all the answers he wanted.

Keith pushed away from the bar. “Let’s head to my place and hit up the liquor store on the way there. I feel like we’re going to need it.”

“We are,” Lance agreed.

 

 

 

A lot of good the alcohol did.

From the moment Lance opened his big mouth and let everything spill, Keith was on edge.

Keith paced the room, his fingers interlaced behind his head. His heavy breathing drowned out whatever was playing on the television. Not that any of them was paying attention to the program. It served as background noise, something that they wanted just for the sake of having it.

Out of the three bottles they bought from the liquor store, only one and a half remaining Pidge and Lance had nursed a bottle between them all night while Keith chugged one on his own, listening to them both speak. He wished it got him drunk enough for the conversation or at least given him a little buzz. Keith’s frustrations only sobered him up with every passing bit of information that was given to him.

Shiro warned him that Lotor was trouble. He warned him and Keith wanted to give Lance and Pidge the benefit of the doubt. They wanted to protect Keith from the truth and hoped that he would never have to fight against Lotor. However, so long as he fought in his place of business, Keith would fight him.

And Lotor would keep fighting him until Keith was taken out for good. By stretcher or body bag, Lotor wouldn’t care.

Why Lotor hadn’t been arrested yet could only come out of cliché drama, action movies, and TV shows. He was Zarkon’s son, the mayor of the shithole city that they lived in. Zarkon was friends with Sendak who was chief of police. Every call made to complain about the warehouse being a cesspool of fights and death were swept under the rug.

In the long run, Lotor was invincible and he wouldn’t stop.

Keith kicked at his bed and walked to the couch, slumping in the seat between Lance and Pidge. He buried his face in his hands, willing himself to calm down. Keith’s been through worse before. He could get through this if he just _calmed down_.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier,” Lance said. His hand twitched in his lap like he wanted to touch Keith. Lance knew better, though. Keith didn’t want to be touched right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Keith asked through his fingers.

“We didn’t think that Lotor would bother with you if you were fighting for us,” Pidge answered. They moved closer to Keith, trying to peek at him from between his fingers. “We—and by we, I mean Lance—owe him so much money that we thought he would just leave us alone until we paid him back.”

“I think he wanted a piece of our cash cow early.”

That stung and it bothered Keith to know that he was hurt by that. He knew that Lance didn’t mean it in that way. They were friends, right? What they had would be considered friendship, couldn’t it? Keith’s lack of experience with friends made it difficult to decide what friends were or weren’t. Maybe if things were different—

Keith punched his thighs with the side of his fists. He exhaled hard and stared up at the ceiling. He followed the fissure of a crack on the ceiling, tracing nonsensical patterns that calmed him. “Do you think that he’s going to leave me alone for a while?” Keith asked.

“For now,” Pidge answered. “If you get any more popular and Lance pays off his debts, he’ll come after you.”

“I’ll be stronger by then.” Keith was starting to feel like a broken record.

Since meeting them, how many times had he said that to himself? It had always worked to motivate him, but now it had started to feel lack luster in its effect. Keith needed something else to motivate him. Something that was better than what he had been telling himself.

Pidge stretched their arms over their head. They twisted, pressing their cheek against Keith’s shoulder. “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t think my family will like knowing that I smell like alcohol.”

“You had, like, one drink.”

“Matt will rat me out the moment I step in the door,” Pidge retorted. “He’s been looking for something to blackmail me with for _months_. I’m not giving him the ammunition.”

Keith smiled. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice in his head said that his face cracked from the action. “Go ahead and take the bed. Lance and I can share the couch.”

Pidge yawned and stood up. Their footing stumbled for a moment, but Keith blamed it on the garbage that littered his floor. Still, he stood up and helped Pidge to the bed. He watched as they climbed under the only blanket in the apartment. It only took a matter of seconds before light snoring filled the room. They passed out quickly and Keith appreciated that fact.

Lance was already stretching himself out on the couch, dubbing Keith the one in charge of shutting off the lights. Keith grumbled as he did so, taking the long path to the wall switch and flicking it off. He jumped over the back of the couch, his legs landing across Lance’s body. His friend grunted but he didn’t make any other complaints.

Keith nudged his boots off and tucked his feet between Lance and the couch. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to speak again. Maybe it just called for it. Maybe Keith wanted to ease up a bit on the tension that filled the air.

“So, I heard you have a little crush on an ambulance driver.”

Lance snorted and nudged Keith in the side with his foot. “Where’d you hear that? You were passed out for those car rides.”

“The EMT worker who took care of me paid me a visit at the hospital the last time I was there. … He’s the one who told me about Lotor to begin with.”

“I don’t know if that means I should thank him or beat him up.”

It was Keith’s turn to nudge Lance. “I had to know eventually, Lance. You couldn’t hide it from me forever.”

Lance grumbled, but the words were lost to Keith’s ears. “Yeah, I guess… Get some sleep, Keith.”

“Night.”

* * *

“Shiro, I think you’re a little bit… obsessed with this guy.”

Shiro smiled at Hunk.

Hunk’s been Shiro’s partner since they first started together. When you work with someone long enough, you start to get to know them; you start considering them as family and spend time together outside of work. It made sense for Hunk to be able to look right through Shiro like he was a sheet of glass.

“I think obsession is too strong of a word for this, Hunk,” Shiro retorted.

Hunk huffed. “It’s something, though.” He looked at Shiro just as he parked. Shutting the engine, Hunk drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I know taking care of him stirs some… bad memories for you. Which is why it might be best to just let him go, you now?”

        And Shiro knew that he was right. Taking care of Keith brought up a lot of things that he didn’t like to remember. He only took care of him twice, but that was two times too many. “Maybe. He hasn’t shown up since the last time we took care of him. Maybe things have changed for him.”

For the better, Shiro hoped.

Hunk clapped a hand to Shiro’s shoulder and shook him. “Maybe. Just don’t stay too focused on this guy, okay? It’s not good for your health to do that.”

Shiro squeezed Hunk’s hand. His intentions were good, this much Shiro knew.

They separated for the day, Hunk shouting at him to enjoy his next two days off. Shiro usually did. Then again, his usual plans on his days off were to sleep for as long as possible and visit his family to see how they were doing. That was usually what he did and he hadn’t changed it in years. Matt always told him that he was a creature of habit and he agreed.

Until today.

Keith looked like he belonged there, his hip leaning against Shiro’s car, black and sleek. His red jacket and high tops are the only trace of color on him. But just like it did when he first met him, Shiro’s attention went to his eyes. A blue color that was one hue away from being purple.

Shiro liked that color a lot more than he cared to admit.

Shiro twirled his keys on his finger. “How’d you know which car was mine?”

Keith shrugged his shoulders. “I have my ways.” He pushed off the car and walked closer to him. Shiro felt like a mouse being cornered by a cat. It was in the way Keith walked to him, slow but with a purpose, his eyes trained on him. “I’ve won quite a few fights.”

“I can see that.” Shiro looked him up and down. “You don’t _look_ like you’re injured so it’s safe to assume.”

“Mhm.” Keith reached up and messed with the zipper on his jacket. He brought it down

slowly, stopping when it reached the middle of Shiro’s torso. “About that date you promised me... Ready to go on it?”

Shiro bit his lip and looked elsewhere.

This was dangerous. Shiro didn’t know _how_ it was dangerous, but he knew it was. Keith had this gravitational pull that tugged him down to crash on his surface. Hunk’s words echoed in his head.

For a second before disappearing altogether.

“Any place special you had in mind?” Shiro found himself asking.

“Mm. One place comes to mind.”

Keith had to bite his cheek to keep himself from laughing. Shiro hadn’t expected his choice of location for their date. It was written on his face, but it was more peaceful than the alternative.

Keith shifted on the hood of Shiro’s car and looked out over the city’s landscape. The sun was just starting to set and lights from buildings were coming on. Between them sat burgers, chicken nuggets, and french fries. It might seem like a cheap date compared to who he was with, but for Keith, this was splurging on himself.

From where they sat, Keith could see the warehouse. If he strained his ears and closed his eyes, he could hear the crowd roaring, thirsty for the next fight to start or for their favorite fighter to win.

Keith didn’t want to think about that tonight. He purposefully told Pidge and Lance that he wouldn’t be fighting for a while even after he was given a clean bill of health. Keith deserved a break from it every now and then.

“I’ve been on strange dates before, but this is different,” Shiro finally spoke, a burger in his hand.

“A bad different or a good different?” Keith asked, his heart hammering in his ears.

“A good different.” Shiro bit into his burger and chewed. After a moment, he swallowed his bite. “Usually, my dates take me to a bar or to a restaurant. You, on the other hand, take me to the outskirts of town just to see the sunset.”

“And the stars.”

He smiled. “And the stars.” Shiro looked up at the sky after taking another bite.

Keith grabbed a chicken nugget and popped it into his mouth, staring up at the sky that was slowly started to decorate itself with stars. A new gown to show off to their half of the world. They were still close to the city, though. They wouldn’t be able to see as many as Keith would have seen if he still lived in the desert with his father. Keith would have liked to take Shiro there to see them. It was always a pleasant memory for him.

“Have you always lived in this city?” Keith asked. He lay back on the car and stared at the back of Shiro’s head.

“All my life.” Shiro looked back at him, made sure that he wasn’t in the way, and then lay down beside him. The burger sat half eaten in his hand. “What about you? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“A true detective, aren’t you?”

“I like watching Sherlock Holmes and detective movies.”

Keith smiled. “I’m from Texas. Originally, anyway. I’ve traveled all over the country, though.” He turned onto his side, resting his head in the crook of his arm. “This city is the first place I’ve settled down in for a long time.”

Shiro turned his head to look at him. “Any special reason why?”

“I think you can guess,” Keith answered.

Keith noted the way Shiro grimaced and looked back up at the sky. Fighting really did keep him glued to the city. There was an abundance of it and the money? How could he _not_ stay?

“I don’t want to talk about that, though.”

“What do you want to talk about, then?” Shiro questioned.

Keith raised a hand. He tugged at Shiro’s zipper, mindlessly playing with the tab. “‘ _The first rule of fight club, is that you don’t talk about fight club_.’” Shiro snorted at that. “Anything you want. Just not about that.”

When Shiro smiled, tiny bubbles popped in Keith’s chest, a tingling sensation that he didn’t find unpleasant. “Where did you like spending most of your time? You traveled all over, there had to be one place you liked the most.”

He pursed his lips. “Actually, I liked Texas the most. The desert air, the lack of noisy neighbors, the _stars_.”

“Ah. I’m starting to see why you brought me up here.”

Keith snorted and turned onto his back. He raised his arms to the sky, splaying his fingers out. “These aren’t _real_ stars.”

Shiro laughed. “They aren’t fake, Keith. The city’s good, but it’s not _that_ good.”

Keith elbowed Shiro in the side and raised his arm once more. “That’s _not_ what I meant. You can barely _see_ the stars here. Out in the desert, with no lights to brighten the night, you can see stars for _miles_.”

Feeling foolish, Keith crossed his arms and hugged himself tightly. “My dad was the one who taught me about stars and constellations. He said there was always a way for me to find my way back home if I got lost in the desert and taught me how to do it.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

Keith wasn’t the one who spoke the compliment, but it still tasted bitter in his mouth. He remembered being that naïve and thinking that his father was a good man.

Back then, Keith was.

Keith had many fond memories of his father taking him wherever he wished and loving him. Those memories broke like rock candy smashing against the concrete from the moment he realized his father wasn’t coming back to him.

Just thinking about it tossed him into the inky and dark pools of his life, covering his mouth to choke him. Keith could feel his chest rising and falling, imitating panic. This was not an opportune time to be thinking about this. Not with Shiro sitting beside him, watching him as he spoke.

Keith broke through the surface and stared up at the sky, taking in large gulps of air as if he really had been drowning. He refused to look at Shiro, refused to see how he looked at him. Tears gathered on the edge of his eyes and Keith willed them away, shutting his eyes tightly once more.

“Keith…”

“Give me a minute…” Keith’s voice sounded far away to even himself, out of breath and shaky. He sounded pathetic. “Please…”

“Okay.”

Keith felt like hours had passed before he could feel himself come down to the present, but it couldn’t be more than fifteen or twenty minutes. He opened his eyes and looked to Shiro, his heart catching in his throat. Shiro looked concerned, staring at him and searching his face for something that he didn’t know about.

“Sorry…” Keith exhaled, closing his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at Shiro anymore.

“Don’t be,” Shiro said quietly. “Just take your time coming back to me a bit more.”

That sounded _way_ too nice and personal, but it filled Keith with such a warm feeling. It felt nice. He didn’t want to say it felt like home, even if that was the feeling he associated with it.

“I think I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied with a nod, opening his eyes. “I’m sorry about that, though.”

“It’s okay.” Shiro raised his hand, sticking a few loose strands of Keith’s hair behind his ear.

From the corner of his eye, Keith could see the question there, flitting across Shiro’s face, gone before Keith could even question it. He knew what it was, knew what Shiro wanted to ask of him. Keith felt a lump lodge in his throat, a lump so huge that no amount of swallowing could bring it down.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked, finally feeling brave enough.

Shiro chewed on the inside of his lip. “What triggered it? Should I know just in case I repeat it?”

Talking about this was like ripping open a wound and shoving acid into it. Keith hadn’t talked about his father to _anyone_. Not to the directors of the orphanage, not to the social worker they suggested he see, not to any of the foster parents he was supplied with, and certainly not to Lance or Pidge. Keith hadn’t felt close enough to them to say anything about it.

But Shiro? Keith felt… _safe_ with him around. It wasn’t something that Keith could explain in words. He just _did_.

“My father was a great man,” Keith spoke. His voice sounded strange even to himself. “I thought he was the greatest man in the universe. You feel like that when you’re a kid, you know?” He bit his lip and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill forth. God, this was always the hardest to talk about. Just thinking about it brought the same effect. “Until he dropped me off at an orphanage’s doorstep and disappeared into the night.”

Keith let out a shaky breath and looked to Shiro. He was still staring at him quietly, but Shiro gave it all away in his eyes. That overwhelming sadness Keith had seen when his foster parents looked at him after reading his record. That look that made Keith want to shout and scream at them, screaming for them to stop looking at him like he was made of glass.

He fought the urge back for Shiro, though. Keith was willingly telling him his story, after all. Keith brought that look on himself.

Looking back at the sky, Keith took a deep breath. “No matter what, I clung to the idea that my father was good. I hoped—shit, I _prayed_ that my father would realize his mistake and come driving back to get me. I clung to that thought as much as I’ve clung to that _ridiculous_ stuffed turtle I keep at the back of my closet.”

He laughed and raised a hand to his face, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead. Keith sobbed a little bit, the sound bubbling out of him like soda overfilling. “Older kids kept trying to break me and make me believe that he was _never_ coming back for me. I couldn’t take it anymore and…”

Keith shut his eyes and exhaled hard, “and I broke… I fought back and I’ve been getting into fights ever since.

“No foster home ever kept me for long. With all the fights I kept getting into, it’s no surprise. Why keep a kid that couldn’t get along with the other children they were looking after? The moment I turned eighteen, I flew the coop and never looked back.”

Keith ran his hand down his face and down to his stomach, interlacing his fingers together. “Fighting was the only thing I was good at, so I kept it up and made some money on the side. I can’t remember the last time I settled down in a place for so long.”

Shiro didn’t say anything and that bothered Keith more than he expected it to.

He never told anyone anything about himself. Keith wanted something to be said instead of the silence crippling and choking him.

“Say something,” Keith whispered.

“Do you really want me to say anything?” Shiro responded.

“Better than silence.”

Shiro took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then looked up at the sky. “Your eyes are beautiful.”

Keith became flustered, muttering ‘what’ under his breath as he sat up. He buried his face in his hands and lowered his head to his lap. No one had ever said that to him before. Keith had never let anyone get close enough to him to say things like that. Looking over his shoulder had him facing Shiro’s grin.

 _Beautiful_.

Keith groaned and buried his face in his hands again. “I can’t believe you said that.”

Shiro chuckled. He sat up and his arm wrapped around Keith’s waist. “You said you wanted me to say anything. I think your eyes are beautiful.”

Another groan and Keith attempted to push Shiro away. His hands landed against muscle, playful slaps that wouldn’t hurt. Even after using all his strength, Keith couldn’t push him away. He only succeeded in getting pulled closer to Shiro’s side. Keith gave up with a puff of air that ruffled his hair. He pressed his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder, burying his face into his jacket.

“Good to know that you’re a romantic dork…”

“I am,” Shiro replied. His laugh making Keith feel lightheaded. He nudged Keith with his shoulder and smiled when they pulled apart. “Come back to my place. We can watch a movie or two.”

Keith smiled, his hands once more on the zipper of Shiro’s jacket. “Okay…”

* * *

Happiness didn’t come easy for Keith if he wasn’t in the ring.

In the ring, Keith could be free and enjoy himself. Whatever was bothering him could go away in a few punches and a victory. So, having a handful of people who made Keith happy felt strange. Lance and Pidge were caring and had started to be honest with him whenever he had questions about his opponents in the ring.

Shiro was something he was still slowly adjusting to. Keith was used to his two friends on his couch when he got back from the gym. That was one thing but seeing his boyfriend with them? That was something entirely new and Keith wasn’t sure if he would get used to it.

Even saying that he had a boyfriend was weird. After the first time Keith spent with Shiro, even before they could consider themselves an item, he stared at himself in the mirror. He repeated the word: boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, _boyfriend_. The word fizzed in his mouth like strawberry Pop Rocks.

That’s how his chest felt when Shiro gave him the “boyfriend” status.

Keith didn’t want to assume that they were in a relationship. To the extent of his knowledge, they were two friends who hung out a lot. And kissed a lot in the back seat of his car. And touched each other a lot when they were alone in either of their apartments.

Okay, so maybe they _were_ an item, and Keith was too nervous to call them that until Shiro did first. It was safer that way and he wouldn’t risk losing one of the few things that made him happy. Shiro was one part of the equation, and without him, his happiness would fall apart.

Keith chuckled and dug his fingers into Shiro’s back. Shiro’s mouth was pressed to Keith’s neck, his hands running up and down his sides, and Keith wanted to feel them more. He wrapped his legs around Shiro’s hips and pulled him in closer.

“Takashi, come on. You’re being a tease.”

Shiro nipped at his neck and he moaned. He hoped that a mark would be there to join the others on his collarbone. “I’ve told you before, didn’t I?”

“If you say that line about patience, I’m kicking you off the couch.”

Keith’s heart melted when Shiro pulled away and smiled. Damn this man and the hold he had on him.

“Have I said it too much?”

“ _Way_ too much,” Keith answered. He pressed his head back against the cushions and sighed. “Just… _please_.”

“Anything you want, baby.”

A sigh fell from Keith’s lips when he felt Shiro’s hands on his pants. _God_ , the things that Shiro could do with his hands. Things that were magical and absolutely toe curling, and he was all for Keith to have.

“Keith! We got some news for you!”

Lance was the _biggest_ moment killer on this side of the city.

At the sound of his voice, Shiro sat up straight, peering at the door from over the couch. Keith squeezed at his hips and he hoped that would entice his boyfriend enough to come back down to him. A well-timed moan could, and would, send Lance out the door, slamming it behind him when he left.

Shiro wasn’t that kind of person, though. He gave Keith an apologetic look and pulled away from him. Keith never considered going on a murder spree before, but he just might if Lance interrupted them one more time.

“Really, Shiro?” Pidge sneered as they came closer. They draped their arms over the couch, resting their chin on the cushions. “You really do this in broad daylight? What would mom and dad think?”

It made Keith’s jaw drop when he learned that Pidge and Shiro knew each other, even more so when he learned that they were technically family. Keith was all ears when they explained to him that Pidge’s parents adopted Shiro when he was ten. His parents had been friends with the Holt’s, who were happy to take Shiro in when the couple died in an accident.

However, it warmed Keith’s heart when he saw them interacting the way siblings do. It must be nice.

Shiro playfully rolled his eyes, straightening out his shirt. “I don’t know. Why don’t we go and ask them how they feel about your gambling addiction?”

Keith snorted and looked at Pidge. They smiled, their shoulders shaking as they laughed.

“That’ll be the funniest family meeting ever. Matt would have _loved_ it.”

Shiro chuckled and stood up. He leaned down, kissed along Keith’s brow, and then walked off to the bathroom. Keith would have reached out to him and whined if it weren’t for his friends eyeballing him hard.

Sighing in defeat, Keith sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, a poor attempt at fixing it. “So, what’s the news that’s _so_ important you come barging into my apartment?” He was starting to regret giving them a copy of the key.

Lance hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to him. Keith swore he heard a piece of the couch break. Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and he pulled him in close, grinning more so than usual. Keith had learned a long time ago that it wasn’t always a _good_ thing for himself when Lance wore this look.

“Do you remember a month or so ago that the House was going to have a fighting competition? Winner gets $100,000 cash prize?”

That sounded familiar, but Keith couldn’t say that he remembered being told about it. Where was he when he had that conversation? The realization would have made a nun blush. There was no way Keith was going to tell Lance that Shiro was pounding into him when he was on that call.

“What about it?” Keith asked. It was better to pretend than tell him the truth.

Lance’s grin wavered for a second before he brought it back up. “You’re in it! Man, all you need to do is fight your way through until the end and then you win! All that money for fighting—which is what you love to do!”

“And in exchange, you suffer through a few broken bones to get it,” Shiro commented from the bathroom.

Pidge waved a hand at the bathroom, signaling that they should all ignore him. They pulled a slip of paper from their pocket and held it out to Keith. “This is a list of everyone who was accepted into the tournament. They have brackets for the rounds and your first opponent is a _joke_.”

Keith took the paper and scanned over the names. He remembered Morvok. He was there when he first entered the arena and, to this day, Keith _still_ didn’t understand how Morvok managed to win his first fight. Being small had its advantages, clearly.

He continued reading the names and his eyes narrowed when he spotted Lotor’s.

“If Lotor’s the one who organized this, why is he part of the fights?” Keith asked.

Lance shrugged his shoulders. “He’s always part of them. We told you how he is. Even if it’s _his_ money that he’ll be getting back. All he wants is to be part of the action.”

“More like he just wants to show his dominance over everyone else,” Keith muttered.

“That’s something we can agree on.”

Keith looked over the couch again, seeing Shiro leaning against the bathroom’s doorway. He knew that conversations like these always bothered him. If Keith brought up the arena, Shiro always asked him to change the topic. He did so willingly, seeing how uncomfortable he was by it. Shiro’s shoulders always got tense and he refused to look at him for a time. But soon he would be back to looking at Keith, all smiles, and positive energy.

Running his hands through his hair, Keith stood up. He dropped the paper down on the coffee table and walked up to Shiro. Keith ran his hands up and down Shiro’s chest, resting them on his shoulders. Shiro leaned in and pressed his cheek against him, sighing.

“Are you going to be okay when I’m fighting?” Keith asked quietly.

He knew that Lance and Pidge were watching them, waiting. Keith didn’t care if they grew impatient. When it came to Shiro, he knew to take his time and not rush anything.

“You’re going to fight no matter what I say,” Shiro answered.

His voice sounded strained and that broke Keith’s heart. One of the things he never wanted to do was hurt Shiro in any way. When Keith thought about it, he wondered just how many times he left Shiro worried sick about him.

Shiro pulled away and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Just be careful…” he mumbled. “I can’t always be working when something bad happens to you.”

“I’ll be fine, Shiro.”

Pidge cleared their throat and Keith whipped his head around. The glare he sent Pidge’s way didn’t faze them. Pidge stared back at him, looking bored at the sentimental scene before them.

“Can I help you?” Keith questioned, unable to keep the irritation out of his tone.

“Not really. _I’m_ the one who can help _you_ , though,” Pidge answered. “If you _want_ to get a good start on being able to kick your future opponents asses, you better start training now. You might not have noticed, but Haxus is fighting, too. If you two managed to win your next three fights, you’ll be facing him in the ring once more.”

Lance nodded. “He’s not happy after what you did to him last time. Haxus is ready to take you down and for good.”

“It can’t be any worse than what Lotor did to me.”

Shiro snorted and Keith delivered a playful slap to his cheek.

“Can you two _please_ give this day to me and Shiro?” Keith asked. He stepped away from Shiro, their fingers remaining connected until the last second. “The tournament isn’t until next month. We can start our training regimen tomorrow.”

Pidge opened their mouth to speak, but Lance’s elbow hit hard into their side. If there was one thing Lance was on Keith’s side about, it was this. Keith figured it was because he helped him get with Shiro’s coworker. Hunk was a nice guy, and he and Lance seemed to hit it off well enough. Keith wondered if Hunk could handle Lance’s wild personality for long.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” Pidge reluctantly agreed. They walked over to Shiro and punched playfully at his arm. “Try not to do what you did to him last time.” At Shiro’s confused stare, they wiggled their eyebrows in a playful manner. “You know what I mean.”

“Katie!”

Pidge cackled, tossing their head back as they avoided a swipe from Shiro’s hand. They were the first one out of the door. Lance waved at them both and walked out, closing the door behind them with a slam. It was unnecessary, but Keith didn’t care.

They were gone and he was alone with Shiro.

Keith sat back down on the couch and motioned for Shiro to come closer with a curl of his finger. Shiro chuckled and rolled his eyes, but he still walked over. Keith held his arms out to him, waiting for Shiro to fall into them, but he was ignored.

Shiro sat on the edge of the couch and picked up the paper. His eyes scanned over it and Keith wished he could hear what was going through his mind. Shiro never explained what his issue was with underground fighting. Clearly, he didn’t like it and Shiro didn’t hesitate to voice his discomfort when Keith said he was off to fight in a match.

But he never stopped him.

Keith had to assure him that he would win. Then Shiro would take his hand, kiss his knuckles and send him off. Too often had Keith returned at 4 AM to Shiro waiting for him on the couch, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. It didn’t matter if he had a 6 AM shift or not. Shiro always waited for Keith to come so that he could look over any of his injuries.

“Lotor planned this on purpose,” Shiro said, “you know this, right?”

Keith did know. He wasn’t a fool and he wasn’t about to let Lotor think he was.

“I know.”

Shiro sighed and ran a hand down his face. He pressed his fist against his mouth. His shoulders rose and fell as he took in deep breaths.

Keith sat up, his worry and anxiety spiking. He’s never seen Shiro like this before. Shiro, who was always calm and patient with him, never looked like this since they started dating. It was a cause for concern and Keith was ready to assist if he needed to.

“I don’t think you should fight,” Shiro finally said, lowering his fist.

Keith blinked once. Twice. Then a third time.

“What?” Keith asked, tilting his head to the side.

Shiro dropped the paper and hunched over, his elbows on his knees. He continued to take in deep breaths and Keith wasn’t sure if he should touch him or not. If he did, it may cause a bad reaction and Keith already felt like they were teetering on the edge of _something_. One wrong slip up, one wrong move and something regrettable could happen.

“I don’t think you should fight,” Shiro repeated. “Lotor… Keith, he’s going to kill you.”

Time stopped.

It shouldn’t be all that big of a surprise to Keith. Since the first time he entered the arena, he had a feeling that Lotor was out to kill him. It was in the way he fought against Keith and how Lotor let uncontrollable rage consume him. If given the chance, Lotor would have killed him and he wouldn’t think twice about it.

But still, Keith couldn’t wrap his head around it. If he did, he would doubt himself and then he _would_ die by his hands.

“I have to, Shiro,” Keith whispered.

“And _why_ do you have to, Keith?” Shiro asked, finally daring to look at Keith. “Why do you _have_ to fight?”

Keith never wanted to see that look on Shiro ever again. Out of all the people who could have hurt him, it should never be Keith. Yet that’s exactly what happened and he couldn’t give Shiro an explanation.

He couldn’t explain to him how Lotor had been keeping tabs on him. Keith couldn’t express his fear that if Lotor was watching him, he was probably watching Shiro, too. For all he knew, he could have been watching Shiro all along. If Lotor was watching Pidge, then he knew about Shiro and he was being more careful about him.

 _That_ was Keith’s biggest fear; if he brought danger to Shiro or not. If anything happened to him—

Keith had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from thinking about it.

He crossed his arms and curled in on himself. Keith could feel Shiro’s stare boring holes into him. “I can’t tell you…”

The silence that followed was stifling. It choked Keith and he struggled to breathe. He could feel Shiro’s presence, but he didn’t move closer to comfort him or walk away. Keith appreciated that. Shiro wouldn’t leave him without saying a word and he knew when he needed to stay away from Keith.

Even if they were the cause of each other’s uncomfortableness.

After some time, Keith fell back against the arm of the couch. He stretched his arms out, pleading for Shiro to come closer to him. Shiro looked away, and Keith’s heart stopped for a moment or two. It started back up again when Shiro shifted his position, laying on top of Keith and pressing his face into his neck.

Keith ran his hand up and down his back, moving it in soothing circles. He could feel Shiro’s heart racing against his own. Keith wished he could soothe it as well as Shiro could soothe his own. For Shiro, it came to a matter of time before he could calm down from something.

“Let’s forget about the tournament and underground fighting for a while,” Keith whispered in Shiro’s hair. “This day is just for us, so let’s enjoy it. Okay?”

Shiro shifted and raised himself up, bracing his forearm on the arm of the couch. Shiro’s eyes roamed his face, a mixture of emotions slipping by before Keith could grasp onto one. And Keith wished he could know what he was thinking about it. Never had Shiro been an enigma in their relationship, always telling Keith whatever he wanted to know if he asked.

But he wasn’t right now and it left Keith feeling that something was wrong.

“Yeah,” Shiro whispered back.

The roll of Shiro’s hips against his had Keith gasping. Their movements and passion for one another pushed his worry from his mind. Keith’s focus remained on how Shiro touched him, how he pressed up against him, lean muscle against his own. Shiro’s lips against his skin, leaving marks that Keith would press into for days.

“ _Shiro…_ ”

“ _Keith…_ ”

* * *

This was what all his hard training had prepared him for.

Keith stretched his arms above his head, popping them into place. The arena he had been fighting on for weeks waited for him, clean and dried from previous fights.

His fights weren’t easy, either.

Each opponent had something to prove and wanted something more than Keith did. Too often had Morvok landed a blow to his stomach or ribs. Since Morvak was small, he had that advantage and he could be fast when he put his mind to it. Keith, however, had his own reasons for fighting and he wasn’t going to let anyone get in his way.

Morvak was an easy opponent, despite having a few bruises and cuts from him. When it finally came to Thace, it showed just how far Keith had come as a fighter. It was so difficult fighting him before and now it seemed easier. But just as much as Keith had grown, so had Thace. It didn’t help either of them that they had seen the one another fight. Keith knew Thace’s strategies just as much as Thace knew his.

Yet Keith still fought. He fought and delivered blow after blow on Thace’s body until he was the victor. That fight left him more exhausted.

Keith leaned against the ropes after that fight, slumping down to the ground as the crowd cheered. Exhaustion was ready to bring him down to sleep and it would have succeeded. If it wasn’t for Shiro pulling him out of the ring, Keith _would_ have fallen asleep.

It still baffled him that Shiro came for his fights. He couldn’t come to all of them, but Shiro came to those that were most important. Keith realized it was always the fights where he was ready to pass out in one way or another. He took solace in pressing his cheek against Shiro’s sternum, humming in content even as his boyfriend yelled at everyone to back away. When Keith woke up, it was always to a smiling and relieved face, following by the biggest scolding he had ever received in his life.

Even if Shiro was going to scold him to hell and back, Keith was glad to know that he was around.

It was important for Shiro to be around for this last fight. Everyone in their little group knew that Keith would make it through to the end. He’s trained for weeks, preparing for all his matches. A few days spent training, a day or two to relax his muscles, and then it was back to training.

Keith made his way through the rounds until it came to the match he’s been waiting for since the beginning:

His match with Lotor.

On the other side of the ring, Lotor smiled at Keith. Two of his lackeys were massaging his shoulders, keeping him loose and limber. Keith felt like he knew what was going through Lotor’s mind. If Lotor planned on doing the same tricks as last time, he was going to fight dirty and Keith would need to focus extra hard to overcome him. It would be hard, but he was determined.

“Don’t even look at that ugly mug of his,” Lance said, blocking Keith’s view. He raised his hands and rubbed at Keith’s shoulders. “You’re going to win this, man. You’ve trained relentlessly for weeks. There’s no way you’ll lose this.”

Pidge pressed against his side, their hand wrapped around his wrist. “He’s right, Keith. I usually don’t agree with Lance, but I am just for today.” They rubbed at his forearm and smiled at him. “For once, we’ll get to see Lotor lose that smug face of his and I can’t _wait_ for that.”

“Me either…” Keith mumbled.

He looked around and through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of Shiro. He wasn’t there yet and that made Keith nervous. Keith wouldn’t say that he was a good luck charm, but a number of times he’s come out of fights barely harmed were often when Shiro was around.

“Where’s Shiro?” Keith asked.

“He’s parking the car,” Pidge explained. “I came with him today. He should be here soon.”

“I’m right here,” Shiro corrected as he pushed through the crowd.

Keith instantly felt relieved. He walked up to Shiro and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. Keith hummed when he felt Shiro’s arms around his waist, pulling him just as close to his body.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Keith whispered into his ear.

Shiro kissed his temple. “I’m here, baby…”

And Keith was grateful for that. Without Shiro, Keith wasn’t sure how he would be able to survive his fight with Lotor.

The fight wouldn’t start for a while. Keith stood around with his group, talking about possible strategies. What weak points Lotor might go for and expose, where he might hit the most and how hard. Pidge had been keeping an eye on him for weeks and they had nothing to report on how much Lotor had changed as a fighter. It was as much as a mystery to them as it was to Keith and Lance.

Shiro was the only one who didn’t speak. He kept an arm around Keith’s shoulders and remained quiet. Occasionally, he would be asked a question or to bring up a suggestion, but Shiro would smile and say nothing.

Keith didn’t complain. It took a lot of pleading and hope to get Shiro to come to any of his fights. If he wanted to stay quiet and watch or listen, then Keith was content to let him.

The crowd fell into a hushed silence as Lotor entered the ring. Keith glared at him as he walked across it. He hated how Lotor looked in the ring. Lotor always looked out of place but right at home at the same time. It bothered Keith.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time,” Lotor announced. “I’m glad that you were the one who made it here. If not… well, I would have been severely disappointed if I had to fight someone else.”

He crossed his arms on the ropes and leaned on them. Keith wished that Lotor would fall over them and humiliate himself.

“Are you ready, Keith?” Lotor smirked, staring down at him like he was a bug.

“I’m all in,” Keith answered without missing a beat.

“Don’t fight, Keith.”

That wasn’t what Keith wanted to hear moments before his final fight.

Keith peeled himself away from Shiro and stared up at him. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he looked at his face. Maybe Keith expected an immediate apology or explanation. But he didn’t receive one.

Shiro stared back at him, his expression adamant.

Out of all the fights that Shiro had seen Keith do—

“Why?” Keith asked, his voice shaking against his will.

Shiro ran a hand down his face. He looked around at the crowd, almost like he didn’t want to have this conversation here. Still, Shiro motioned to Lotor.

“Because he’s going to kill you!” Shiro shouted. Even from those five words, he sounded out of breath, his chest heaving.

Keith had heard this before. Not just from Shiro, but from Pidge and Lance as well. Occasionally, when patrons were out of earshot of Lotor and his lackey’s, Keith would hear them talking about who would fall victim to Lotor’s hands next.

“You don’t know that,” Keith said, crossing his arms.

Shiro looked at him with incredulity. He looked to Pidge and Lance, almost like he was asking them to back him up. Instead, they looked away from him. They didn’t want to get involved in the mess that would be a fight between Shiro and Keith.

“I don’t know that?” Shiro asked, gesturing himself with both his hands. “ _I_ don’t _know_ that? Keith, what did I say to when I visited you in your hospital bed after _that_ man sent you to the emergency room?”

Shiro pointed at Lotor. “That _monster_ has put you in the emergency room, he’s put people in graves and ran their bank accounts dry—” Shiro walked up to Keith, gripping his shoulders hard, “—that bastard is the one who _did_ all this to me!”

Keith stared up at Shiro, taking in his disturbed appearance.

Keith only ever asked once about what happened to Shiro. After he told Keith that the information was classified, he never brought it up again. It was clearly a sensitive topic that Shiro didn’t want to talk about. Shiro was an open book but what happened to him? That remained a mystery that Keith never talked about.

At the beginning of their relationship, upsetting him wasn’t something that Keith wanted to do.

Pidge was the one who separated them, pushing hard against Shiro’s chest. They looked angry, their small shoulders rising and falling with every hard exhale.

“You told me it was a car accident that caused it…” Pidge said, their voice shaking. They raised their hands and shoved Shiro again. “You, and mom, and dad, and Matt – all of you! You all lied to me!”

Shiro looked like he was in pain. He screwed his eyes shut, his breathing shallow. When Shiro opened his eyes again, he raised his right arm and made a fist. Keith had been so used to the sound of the machinery moving that he never heard it anymore. But right now? Knowing what was the cause of it? It was like Keith was hearing it for the first time.

“We didn’t want to worry you…” Shiro said. His voice cracked on the last word. “Kaite—Pidge, you were so young. Neither of us wanted you to know about this kind of lifestyle.” He laughed, a breathless sound. “A lot of good that did, because look at you now. Sneaking out of the house to gamble on these _death_ traps.”

Keith’s head was spinning. The room fell away from him. This was not an optimal time for this to happen. If Shiro had unloaded any of this information on Keith a day or so before the match, it would have been fine.

“When did it happen…?” Keith asked, his voice soft. He didn’t want anyone else to hear him, but Keith knew they were listening. Keith knew that they were craning their ears to hear every word that fell from either of their mouths.

Shiro lowered his hand. “When I was around Pidge’s age, maybe? I was seventeen and going through that rebellious stage still. Fighting helped me release that pent-up energy and it felt good.” He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “I got cocky and Lotor mopped the _floor_ with me.”

“I did,” Lotor said with a lilt of his voice.

Shiro turned on Lotor with an anger that Keith had never seen on his face before. He pointed a finger at him, his hand shaking.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Lotor,” Shiro demanded through gritted teeth. “You are not part of this right now and I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

He turned back to look at Keith and his anger evaporated. Shiro’s shoulders slumped and he ran his hands through his hair. Keith watched him carefully, wondering what he would do next. Minutes passed before Shiro walked back to him and gripped Keith’s shoulders again. His touch was gentle this time, all previous anger gone.

“Keith, please… _Please_ ,” Shiro pleaded, “don’t fight him…”

If it were any other time, Keith would have listened to him. If this fight was just a simple bar fight with anyone that wasn’t Lotor, Keith would have nodded his head and let Shiro lead him away in his arms and to his apartment.

This wasn’t an ordinary fight, though.

Lotor wasn’t just an ordinary person who Keith could walk away from. Lotor had ways of making his life hell and he couldn’t risk that. It wasn’t just Keith who was at risk, either. Lance and his large family, Pidge and their family, which now included Shiro. And Keith couldn’t let anything terrible happen to Shiro.

As cheesy as it sounded, Shiro felt like home now. Shiro quieted all his thoughts when Keith’s mind thought it was time to think about his father. One touch to his shoulder or his back, and Keith would return to the present, Shiro staring at him with a worried look.

If anything were to happen to him… Keith didn’t know what he would do.

Keith licked his lips and shook his head. “I can’t, Shiro… I can’t walk away from this.”

Shiro pressed his lips into a thin line. His grip on Keith’s shoulders tightened only a fraction. Keith wanted nothing more than to touch him, to comfort him in some way but he feared what Shiro might do if he did so.

“Then I’m leaving.”

Keith’s heart tore into pieces.

Shiro took his hands back and lowered them to his side, clenching his fists. “I can’t sit here and watch you get killed. I just can’t.”

Keith sucked in a shuddering breath. “I understand…” His eyes were starting to burn.

Pidge, still angry after what Shiro had told them, moved to Keith’s side, placing a hand on his wrist. “Don’t worry. Lance and I will still be here with you.”

“Oh no you won’t,” Shiro said.

It was the one thing Shiro said before he grabbed Pidge and tossed them over his shoulder. Pidge’s reaction to the treatment was immediate. They screeched and punched at his back, but Shiro felt nothing.

“I’m taking you home,” Shiro assured as he readjusted Pidge on his shoulder.

Keith wanted to say something as he watched Shiro walk away. His throat closed and he struggled to say what he wanted to. Keith had thought of saying the words before, but he could never bring himself to do so. These words were binding and, even after dating Shiro after all this time, Keith still couldn’t bring himself to say them.

“Shiro,” Keith called out to him, digging his nails harder into his palm.

Shiro turned to him and his throat became tighter. Keith could hardly breath and words were even more difficult to speak out.

He couldn’t say it. Keith couldn’t say it and he _hated_ himself for it.

And Keith’s heart shattered even more at Shiro’s broken look. It was the look of a man who just had his heart ripped out and stomped on. And Keith was the one to do it.

Any other time, Keith would have run after him and cling to his back. He would have pressed his face against his strong muscles and plead for him to stay. Or for Shiro to take him away. Any one of those options would have been a warm welcome.

Keith could feel Lotor staring at him, waiting for him to get into the ring and start their final fight. Even if he wanted to go, Keith knew that he couldn’t.

Lance moved to stand in front of him. At first, he raised his hands to Keith’s shoulders, but changed his mind and gripped his biceps instead. “Shiro’s right, you know. You… you don’t _have_ to fight Lotor. You’re not _obligated_ to keep going. Keith, you can throw the match and walk out of here.”

Lotor chuckled, drawing both of their attention to him. “Oh yes, Lance. That’s an excellent idea. I bet your _mama_ and your _papa_ would _love_ to know that happened,” he interjected. He tilted his head to the side. “The rest of your family members would too, I believe.”

That was when Keith knew he couldn’t throw the towel on this match.

There was a threat beneath Lotor’s words and he knew it. Lotor would hold true to his threat and Keith didn’t want to see the McClain family hurt. They had taken care of him more than once, too. Lance may have suggested it, but Keith knew that Lance wanted him to continue fighting.

And he would.

Keith spun around and climbed into the ring.

Lotor backed into his corner, that smirk never leaving his face.

Keith wondered if he would leave the arena alive.

Keith wondered if Lance had 911 at the ready.

What Keith wondered most of all was if Shiro was a safe distance away from this blood fest.

* * *

Shiro knew that he shouldn’t be driving in this condition.

His eyes were burning and he kept wiping at them with the back of his hand. Every now and then, a tear would streak across his cheek and he would wipe it away before Pidge could see it.

As dangerous as driving blurry eyed was, Pidge causing a ruckus in the backseat was _just_ as dangerous.

Pidge juggled the handles of both back doors, growling in frustration when they wouldn’t open. “Let me out, Shiro! Unlock the doors!”

“The child locks are on, Pidge!”

“Why do you have child locks on your door? You don’t even have a kid!”

“To keep you from doing something foolish!”

Rapid fire smacks hit his arm and Shiro reached back to push Pidge away.

“Stop hitting me when I’m driving!”

“Then let me out!”

Shiro repressed a groan and put his hand back on the wheel. He wasn’t going to cater to Pidge’s demands. He was their older brother and they would listen to him when he made an order. Matt may have been their blood relative, but they both knew that Pidge listened to Shiro the most. And right now, Shiro really needed that.

Especially since Keith wouldn’t listen to the one thing that could have saved his life.

Thinking of Keith had Shiro’s shoulders sagging and he thought back to the one he cared about. The one he _loved_ , a word that he could never bring himself to tell Keith. Shiro was glad that he didn’t. Relationships weren’t forever and only the stars knew if their relationship would last or not.

And Shiro wished that it did.

Shiro tried so hard to give Keith anything he could have ever wanted and more. It was a childish fancy for him to hope that it was enough, that _Shiro_ would be enough. Finding out that he wasn’t hurt more than Shiro thought it would. It brought tears to his eyes, which he hastily rubbed away with the back of his hand.

“Shiro!”

A horn honked and Shiro veered the car away from the incoming car. The car skidded as Shiro slammed his foot on the brake, stopping just inches from hitting the guard rail of the highway.

His heart hammered in his chest. Slumping in his seat, Shiro buried his face in his hands.

He couldn’t believe he almost did that. Shiro had always been a safe driver and it bothered him to know that he almost caused an accident. Even worse when he knew that Pidge was in the back seat, most likely not strapped in at all to try and escape.

Shiro peeled his hands away from his face and swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Pidge, are you… are you okay?”

Pidge groaned, sticking their head out between the seats. “I think I got whiplash, but I’m okay…” They punched at Shiro’s shoulder, knowing that it was the best place to hit his bionic arm. “What’s wrong with you?! You almost got us killed!”

“I did and I’m _so_ sorry,” Shiro said, pressing his cheek against their head. That was another guilt he would have to carry with him for a while. This was also something that he would _not_ tell their mother and father about.

They sat in silence like that and Shiro was grateful for it. Behind them cars passed them by. No one bothered to see if either of them were okay or not.

Shiro knew what Pidge was thinking about. He was thinking the same thing. Shiro was thinking about Keith and how someone else should be there for him. It couldn’t be him for obvious reasons, but Keith shouldn’t be alone with just Lance cheering him on. Pidge was there from the beginning, helping him and suggesting ideas. It surprised Shiro when he saw how much work they put into helping him.

“Go and be with Keith,” Shiro said, his throat dry. Pidge stared at him as he sat upright and unlocked the front doors. “He needs you, Pidge, and I can’t be there for him right now.”

Shiro knew that Pidge was staring hard at him, but he avoided their gaze. He didn’t want to know what they were thinking, he didn’t want to see if they were ashamed of him or not. Shiro only glanced at them as they climbed over the passenger seat to get out.

Pidge slipped out of the car, but turned around and stuck their head back in. “You know, Shiro, for someone so smart, you’re really dumb. Keith needs you and your head is so stuck up your ass because of what Lotor did to _you_ that you can’t be there for him.” They sighed, hanging their head. “I get it. What happened to you still hurts, but Keith _needs_ you and you’re not there for him. That’s not the kind of person you are. I know that.”

They slammed the door.

Shiro could feel the weight on his shoulders gain more weight, pressing him further into his seat. Out of all the times for Pidge to give him a pep talk, it had to be about this. There were many times when he needed a kick in the ass and Pidge was the one to do it. Shiro never thought that it would happen again.

And he knew that they were right.

Keith needed him and Shiro wasn’t there for him. How many times had Keith been there for him when a patient didn’t make it to the hospital? How many times had Shiro called him in the middle of the night, needing someone to talk to because he was having a shit day? And Keith always answered his calls, always stood by him whenever he was needed. Sometimes, Shiro didn’t need to ask.

Keith always found a way to just be _there_.

Shiro pulled his phone out and hit the power button on the side. Keith’s face illuminated on the screen, wearing a sleepy look. If you looked closely, you could see the silver of Shiro’s prosthetic beneath his head. What he meant to use as a tool to tease Keith with ended up being something that was important to Shiro. His spirits lifted immediately whenever he saw it.

It didn’t fail, even now.

“Shit,” Shiro cursed as he put the car in drive.

Shiro made a U-turn and drove until he spotted Pidge. He knew they couldn’t have gone far on those skinny legs of theirs.

Pulling up beside them, Shiro honked the horn. “Get in now before I change my mind.”

Pidge’s face lit up and they did just that. They ran up to the car, climbed in through the driver’s side window and over Shiro until they were in the passenger seat. For safety measure, they buckled themselves in, giving it an experimental tug.

Shiro sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Just once I wish you would get into a car like a normal person.”

“You have a metal arm and you want normal? You’re in the wrong reality, then. Now drive!”

* * *

“Keith, just tap out!”

And maybe Keith should listen to Lance shrieking at him from the sidelines. Maybe he should listen to the intense pounding in his head. Maybe he should listen to how his body screamed whenever Lotor landed a punch to any part of his body.

But because he was stubborn, because he tended to do something destructive to himself, Keith refused to listen.

Keith kept fighting, and fighting, and fighting until he was tired. Even then, Lotor wouldn’t let him rest. Lotor would grip him by his hair and pull him to his knees or feet. If the referee tried to start a count, Lotor would motion for him to stop just so he could have extra time with him.

And Keith wished he would put an end to it already. If Lotor was going to kill him, he wanted it to be done already. What he wanted was a quick and painless death, but that was asking too much of Lotor. Lotor would take care of Keith in the most painful way possible.

Just because he wanted to.

Keith fell to the floor, his arm and head hanging off the ring. He could barely make out Lotor telling the referee to stop counting. He expected Lotor to come for him, but he never did. Keith wasn’t sure what he was expecting from him. Right now, there was no way for Keith to pick himself up and stand.

He knew his nose was bleeding. He knew that his eye was swelling shut. He knew that his leg was probably injured beyond repair. Keith wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong with it, but he knew that it hurt to stand on it.

Right now, he struggled to stay awake. Keith _hated_ passing out, knowing all too well what awaited him once he plunged into the darkness. Memories of his father, memories of his time in the orphanage and foster care, things that he didn’t want to relive but still did.

There was no stopping it, though. Even with Lance in his face yelling at him to get up and leave the ring, Keith still blacked out.

 

 

 

_“I didn’t think you’d take me to meet your parents.”_

_Shiro smiled at him, balancing his plate on his knee. “Why not? We’ve been going out for a while now. Pidge knows you and my parents thought that it was time that they met you themselves.”_

_Keith moved potato salad around on his plate. Pidge and the Holt parents were inside, having dinner at the table. He had expected to join them, but Shiro nudged him and led him out to the backyard. The patio furniture looked nice and fancy. Keith almost thought that he shouldn’t be looking at it, let alone using it._

_But Shiro still motioned for him to grab a chair and drag it out into the center of the yard. They’ve been sitting outside for a while now._

_“It just didn’t seem like something you would do until you’ve been with someone for a_ long _time,” Keith commented._

_Shiro shrugged his shoulders. “I like you. I think you’re a good person who deserves to meet my parents. Nothing wrong with that.”_

_Keith didn’t want to say anything about it. No, there wasn’t anything wrong with it, but it still felt odd. He blamed it on the fact that he’s never been in a relationship before, much less a serious one like this one with Shiro._

_He sunk into his seat and stared up at the sky. No stars were out. They were too close to the city. It was foolish for him to think that he could see any. If Keith_ did _spot one, he called it a fluke and deemed it artificial._

_“Are you okay?” Shiro asked, interrupting the silence._

_Keith took in a deep breath. “Everything’s fine. I guess I’m just… thrown off by how normal all this seems.”_

_Shiro chuckled. “Keith, with all that you’ve been through, you need a bit of normalcy.”_

_Maybe there’s truth to that. Maybe, for once, Keith needed to feel normal to look at how different his life was compared to Shiro’s. But when he thought about it, Keith thought about how he shouldn’t_ be _with Shiro._

_That was a thought that worried him. Keith’s been happy with him for so long that he wouldn’t know what to do if Shiro left him because of their differences. He imagined it would be like having the rug pulled out from under him. He imagined that he would crash to the floor, but instead of wood, there would be glass and nails sticking up from the floorboards to cut him open until he bled out. It brought a lump to his throat._

_Standing up, Keith placed his plate on his chair. He took hold of Shiro’s plate and placed it beside his own. He said nothing as he climbed onto Shiro’s lap, ignoring his questioning gaze. Keith draped his arms over Shiro’s shoulders, looking in his eyes like they were the most interesting thing outside. And they were. Keith liked the color and how they dilated when he did something Shiro liked._

_“What are you doing, Keith?” Shiro asked. Keith wondered if his mouth was as dry as his._

_“Nothing,” Keith answered, running his fingers through Shiro’s hair._

_Shiro raised his hands and gripped Keith’s waist, giving him a squeeze. “Really? Because it doesn’t seem like something.” He smiled. “You seem like someone who wants something. Kind of like a cat would look at you when they’re hungry. Are you going to start purring for me if I touch you the right way?”_

_Keith rolled his eyes. “Keep it up and I just might. You might like that too much, though.”_

_Shiro only shrugged his shoulders and that was enough of an answer for Keith._

_Keith leaned forward and pressed his face against Shiro’s neck. He was pleased when Shiro tilted his head to the side, giving him more room to work with. His teeth sunk into his flesh and Keith would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy how Shiro moaned._

_“Keith…”_

_Another bite._

_“_ Keith _…”_

_One more bite._

“Keith!”

That sounded too close to him, far from the memory he was currently reliving.

Keith’s eyelids felt like there were weights on them. It took him a couple of tries before he could finally do so. The first thing he saw was Lance, hands over his mouth as he stared with wide and worried eyes. Next was Pidge, shouting something at either Lotor or himself.

Finally, he saw Shiro.

 _Shiro_.

Keith groaned and raised his head. Shiro cupped his face, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs. His touch was still so gentle, careful to stay away from any bruises he might have. Keith never thought that Shiro didn’t care about him and, if Keith did have doubt, this proved so much that he did.

He leaned into the touch, fighting back a sob that bubbled in the back of his throat. “You came back…”

Shiro smiled at him. He leaned forward to kiss Keith’s face but decided against it.

“Course I came back to see you, baby,” he whispered, leaning in close to him. “I couldn’t stay away from you even if I tried.” Shiro smiled. “Your gravitational pull just keeps pulling me in and I’m more than ready to crash into your surface.”

Keith wanted to surge forward and kiss him. He wanted to swallow every breath of Shiro’s until they merged into one. Out of all the things that he had done for him, Keith dubbed this the sweetest. After what Lotor did to him, after what fighting in the ring had put him through, Shiro was here to support and care for him. Keith would always be grateful for it.

He sobbed and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

“I hate to break up this _tearful_ reunion, but I think there’s a match that needs to continue,” Lotor interrupted. “Unless you want to _throw_ the match, Keith. Then again, I wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

Keith looked over his shoulder at Lotor, hovering over him with his hands behind his back. He sneered down at Keith, ready for him to accept the challenge.

“Keith, _baby_ , look at me.”

He returned his attention back to Shiro and Keith pressed his face back into his waiting hands. Shiro looked determined, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a thin line.

“Don’t let Lotor win like this,” Shiro said. His voice was strong and ran through Keith’s head. “Don’t let Lotor think he can beat you down and tear you apart because you’re stronger than he is. Keith-” He ran his fingers through Keith’s sweaty and matted hair, “-you have so much more to live for and _that_ should be enough for you to keep _going_ until you win!”

Keith nodded his head, a jerky movement that Shiro could only feel rather than see.

Shiro leaned in, leaving the smallest of kisses against Keith’s lips. It felt nice and tender. Keith wanted to indulge himself even more and kiss Shiro back. It wasn’t the time or the place for that. Not with Lotor waiting for him, waiting to kick his ass into next week.

“Go kick some ass, baby,” Shiro muttered against his lips.

Keith nodded his head again.

Slowly, like a lamb just born, Keith rose to his feet. His leg sent jolts of pain up through his hip and he gritted his teeth to fight through it. He turned around to Lotor, who now stood on the other side of the ring. Lotor still wore a smug look on his face. No matter what the outcome, he believed that he would win.

Keith planned on proving that even he could be an underdog and pull a victory.

“Do you truly believe that you can win this? Even with your little boyfriend’s arrival?” Lotor questioned. He tilted his head to the side. “I mean, it’s quite sad if you think so.”

“You don’t know Shiro,” Keith said, clenching his hands. “There’s nothing _little_ about him.”

Somewhere in the crowd, Keith swore he heard Pidge and Shiro groaning, followed by Lance whistling.

Lotor chuckled. “Make jokes while you can. Little good they would do you.”

Keith wished he was a little more prepared for Lotor to lunge at him. He barely had enough time to bring his arms up and block the punch coming at the side of his head. It forced him to put pressure on his bad leg and he grit through the pain, pushing Lotor back.

Lotor only stumbled for a moment, which was enough time for Keith to swing a punch into his ribs. The hit connected and Keith was overwhelmed by a sense of pride. Letting it get to his head would be fatal, but he took joy in seeing Lotor hunched over from the wind leaving his lungs.

They traded hits like that. Back and forth, fists, elbows, and knees landing in places to push their opponent back or tire him out.

And Keith was quickly becoming the one tiring out fast. His leg continued to send jolts of pain through his body. Lotor knew that this was his weak spot and he probably planned for it to be so. Since Keith relied on his speed in battle, taking out one of his legs was the best way to slow him down, increasing the chances for a victory. Keith did his best to block each hit to keep him away from it. He wasn’t always successful and he always fell to his knee whenever Lotor got to him.

No matter how many times he fell to the ground, unable to get up, Lotor always had the count held back. He wanted Keith to get back up and fight him. Lotor wanted Keith to keep fighting until he killed him. Keith never doubted Shiro’s words, and Lotor being this aggressive in this fight just cemented the fact that this would happen.

Lotor planned on killing him.

When that thought finally sunk in, Keith was scared. If he lost, this would be his last fight. He would never joke with Lance again, aggravating him and starting a fight. Never again would he talk to Pidge about conspiracy theories until Shiro told Pidge to go home. And Shiro…

 _Shiro_.

That was probably what he would miss the most. How Shiro smiled at him and looked at him. He made Keith feel like the only person who mattered in the world — no, in the _universe_. It felt like Shiro was part of his life to make sure he knew he _mattered_ to someone. Life had finally given up on messing with him, given up on taking away things that he cared about.

Life basically gift wrapped Shiro and delivered him to Keith’s doorstep, knowing that Shiro was the kind of person he needed to _survive_.

Which was why Keith _needed_ to win. If not for himself, for at least the future he would have with Shiro.

Keith’s second wind came back in full force, energizing right when he thought he had nothing else in his reserves. He fought hard against Lotor, his speed returning despite his gimpy leg. It was satisfying to see the look on Lotor’s face when he started coming at him faster. His reaction time was slow and he barely had enough time to raise his arms or thighs to block off an attack.

Behind them, Keith could hear the crowd slowly switching sides. He could hear how they chanted his name more than Lotor’s. If there was anyone else in the crowd who was still loyal to Lotor, Keith didn’t hear them, their voices drowned out by the other’s chanting. It fueled him to keep fighting, it fueled him to try harder and get out alive.

And when Keith’s forehead collided with Lotor’s, the sickening crack silenced the crowd.

Keith grit his teeth as he stumbled back, pain shooting up from his leg. He watched as Lotor fell to the ring’s floor and he held his breath. The referee started a count, free to do so without a command from Lotor. The crowd remained silent, afraid that a single word would ruin everything.

_Don’t get up. Don’t get up. Don’t get up. Don’t get up. Don’t get up._

Keith chanted the words under his breath.

If Lotor stood up, he knew he would lose. Keith didn’t have enough strength in him to keep fighting. He could only go so far until his energy would leave him unconscious. Then Lotor would be free to do whatever he wanted to him, and Keith would rather see what demise he had planned for him.

The count ended.

Lotor still didn’t get up.

The crowd was still silent.

Keith exhaled hard and backed away from Lotor’s unconscious body.

Everything was starting to hurt now and he knew his leg took the brunt of the hits.

Keith staggered to his corner to fall into the arms of his entourage. Shiro crawled into the ring, holding the ropes open for him to crawl through. He grabbed Keith’s hand, helping him ease down to the ground.

“Easy, easy,” Shiro said, helping Keith down to Lance and Pidge’s waiting arms. “Careful with his leg. I don’t want anyone touching it, and I don’t want him putting pressure on it. Good, Lance, good.”

Lance pulled Keith’s arm over his shoulder and held him up. “I got you, Keith.”

Keith snorted. “You’re the _last_ person I want to have me.”

Despite his biting comment, Lance smiled and laughed at him. “Well, I’m all you have so it doesn’t matter what you want.”

Keith smiled at him. Their friendship wasn’t the greatest at the beginning, but they’ve come a long way. Lance was surely one of the people he wanted in his life to be on his side. He pressed his head into Lance’s shoulders, letting out a sigh.

“I got him, Lance,” Shiro said as he jumped down from the ring. He hooked his arm around Keith’s waist and pulled him closer to his body. Keith would be lying if he didn’t say he felt like melted butter every time Shiro did this. “Go ahead and get the prize money.”

Lance ran off without hesitating.

“You little _shit_.”

Keith could _not_ believe it. Even when he looked over his shoulder, he couldn’t believe it.

Lotor was rising to his hands and knees. Anger burned in his eyes, a wildfire that would burn everything in his path. Right now, the only one in Lotor’s path was Keith. If Lotor stood up and stalked over to him, Keith was sure he would destroy him.

“You really think I’m going to let you walk out of here alive?” Lotor questioned. His voice sounded close to an animal, a growl that sent a chill through Keith’s spine. “After what you’ve just done here? You think I’m going to let you leave?!”

“You are,” Keith answered. That answer only angered Lotor more. “I’m not fighting against you again, Lotor. You can throw your childish fit all you want.” Keith smiled at him. “I won this fight and I’m not coming back to this place. We’re square.”

Truthfully, who knows what Lotor would have up his sleeve to bring Keith back to this place. He could choose anyone in Keith’s life and hold them for ransom just to get him back into the ring. And Keith would fight again to get them back, especially if it was Shiro.

Right now, though, Lotor looked defeated. He was still angry, but Keith could tell that he wouldn’t do anything to stop them from leaving.

For now, victory was Keith’s.

“Get ready, baby,” Shiro muttered, pressing his nose behind Keith’s ear. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

Keith nodded his head and bit his lip. Shiro picked reached beneath his legs and hoisted him up princess style. Keeping the smallest bit of noise back was difficult. His leg hurt the most, but everything hurt in general. This was worse than any training he could have done, any fight he had been through the last couple of months, and worse than what his foster siblings could concoct.

Shiro cooing softly didn’t help, but it still made Keith feel warm to hear his voice.

Lance and Pidge cleared a pathway as Shiro carried him through the warehouse. It amazed Keith to hear them stay so silent. He had only ever heard them remain like this whenever Lotor decided to speak. To have all their eyes on him in stunned silence, it was a little unnerving.

Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders and buried his face in his neck.

“Thank you for coming back…” he muttered.

Shiro turned his head and kissed Keith’s temple. “Thank Pidge. They’re the one who helped me figure out how much you needed me…”

Keith made a note to thank Pidge once he was out of the hospital.

The moment they reached Shiro’s car, Shiro was tossing out orders. Lance grabbed his car keys from his pocket and Pidge opened the back door for him. Shiro slipped inside with Keith in his lap. While the other two scrambled to get inside, he moved Keith to sit in his own seat, his injured left leg draped over Shiro’s lap.

Keith gritted his teeth as Shiro’s hand ghosted over his leg. “Well? What do you think is— _shit_ —wrong with it?”

Shiro looked at him then back at his leg. Lance started the car and pulled away from the warehouse, the tires screeching as he sped out of there. Keith liked to believe that it was a good call. Lotor may be just as stunned as the crowd, but he could always recover and have someone come after them. He hoped it wouldn’t be for some time.

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, though, and we’re going to find out.”

Shiro once again looked at Keith. He stared into his eyes for a minute before turning his attention back to the leg in his lap. Keith could see the gears turning in his head. After being with him for so long, Keith could tell when Shiro was thinking hard about something by how he chewed at his lip. Too often had he stroked his bottom lip, commenting on the scars and dry skin that was there.

Shiro took a deep breath and grabbed Keith’s hand. He brought it up to his lips and gave his bruised knuckles a kiss.

“I love you.”

 _That_ confession had Keith taking in a shuddering breath. It was words that they had never dared to utter to one another. Keith had his own reasons, but he never knew what Shiro’s was. He always saw Shiro with a hesitating look. His mouth would drop open but snap shut. Before Keith could ask him about it, Shiro would be off doing his own thing.

Keith stroked Shiro’s fingers with his thumb. He opened his mouth and closed it again. The words were caught in his throat and it was difficult to say them. Keith would force them out, though, even if it killed him to do so.

“I love you, too…”

Shiro’s smile had Keith melting into the leather seats of his car. Keith wanted nothing more than to crawl into his lap and kiss his breath away.

Pidge gagged in the front seat. “Lance, pull over. I think I’m going to throw up from all the mush that’s happening in the back seat.”

Shiro sighed, exhaling hard through his nose, and bowed his head. “Yes, Lance. Please pull over so I can take care of the nerd in the front seat.”

“You love me too much. You wouldn’t lay a _hand_ on me.”

“Pidge, I’m not saying I stole lunch money from kids like you back in the day, but I’m saying I stole lunch money from kids like you back in the day.”

“So _that’s_ what happened to Matt’s lunch money for that month.”

“In all fairness, he did lose to me in that arm wrestling competition in the lunch room.”

Keith fell back against the car door with a happy sigh. He smiled as Shiro and Pidge continued to argue back and forth.

This was his life now and he was happy with it.

* * *

“I’m home. How’s my patient doing?”

Keith was startled out of his nap.

He looked around the posh living room, taking in everything around him. After living in Shiro’s apartment for the past month, Keith figured he would be used to waking up in it. He wasn’t, though. Waking up was always a shock to his system and it took him time to adjust to it.

Keith sighed and shifted in his seat. He spotted Shiro walking into the living room and smiled at him.

“He’s wondering why his caretaker isn’t wearing his very sexy uniform.”

Shiro chuckled. He sat beside him and placed his hand on Keith’s thigh. His fingers played along with the bandages wrapped around his thigh just above his knee. Touching it didn’t hurt anymore, but it bothered him to have anyone touch it.

Anyone but Shiro, that is.

“Does it still hurt?” Shiro asked, leaning in close to him.

Keith still couldn’t believe that Lotor would stoop that low. Around two weeks after he had won his fight, Lotor and his goons cornered him in an alley. Fighting them off was easy at the start. Then Lotor came from behind and cracked a bat against his knee. He brought Keith down to the ground and they all took turns messing it up. It had never healed properly from the last fight he had with Lotor.

By the time someone found him, Keith’s leg couldn’t be saved. Amputating it was the only thing the doctors could do for him.

“It comes and goes.” Keith smiled and pressed their heads together. “Thanks for getting me the _good_ drugs.”

Shiro laughed. “I’m glad that I could help.” He cleared his throat. “I talked to the doctor today.”

“Only good things, I hope.”

“Good things indeed.” Shiro ran his hand over the nub of Keith’s left leg. “All the parts have arrived and they’ve started on constructing your new leg. Your surgery to attach it won’t happen for about a month or two, but it’s a start.”

Keith sighed through his nose. “Goodie.” He pulled away and smiled at Shiro. “I guess we’ll be matching now, huh?”

“My look is a little cooler, though.”

“Oh, really? Let’s call Pidge up and see what they think.”

“Pidge is biased because you’re taking them to visit NASA,” Shiro corrected.

Keith smirked at him. “If it works, it works.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. He moved until he straddled Keith’s thighs.

The look Keith gave him either went unnoticed or Shiro pretended that he didn’t see it. Keith never understood how he could sit on his lap and not realize that his weight wasn’t always welcomed. Too often had Keith compared him to a big dog who didn’t fully understand its size and believed it was a lap dog. The thought always had him laughing until Shiro asked him what was so funny.

Shiro didn’t think it was funny whenever Keith told him.

Keith raised his hands and placed them on Shiro’s hips, his thumbs sneaking beneath his jacket, searching for a bit of skin to play with. He chewed on his bottom lip as Shiro ran his hands up his chest and draped them over his shoulders. Keith wondered just how much strength he could muster to buck his hips into Shiro’s.

“Do you think you can handle some strenuous activity?” Shiro asked, leaning in close to him.

Keith cocked an eyebrow at him. “My doctor _and_ my boyfriend told me that I shouldn’t… but I’m a rebel that likes to break the rules.”

Shiro chuckled and pressed forward to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I can't believe it's finally done. I spent many months on this and it was touch and go when it came to editing. I went over it _twice_ to make sure things were good. Please let me know what you think! Go ahead and leave a comment!
> 
> You can find me on twitter over [here](https://twitter.com/val_hellaa). ♥


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